THE 


VOYAGE  OF  LIFE; 


SUGGESTED    BY 


COLE'S  CELEBRATED   ALLEGORICAL  PAINTINGS. 


J.  B.  WATEEBURY,  D.  D., 

AUTHOR  OP  "ADVICE  TO  A  YOCNO  CHRISTIAN,"  "CONSIDERATIONS 
FOR  YOUNG  MEN,"  ETC. 


Written  for  the  Mattachusetts  Sabbath  School  Society, 
and  approved  by  the  Commii^e  of  Publication, 


BOSTO  N.- 
MASSACHUSETTS SABBATH  SCHOOL  SOCIETY. 
Depository  No.  13  Cornhtll. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862,  by 

CHRISTOPHER  C.  DEAN, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


PREFACE. 


AMONG  the  most  beautiful  specimens  of  allegorical 
painting  is  the  series  of  pictures  by  the  late  Mr.  Cole, 
entitled  "  The  Voyage  of  Life."  They  are  four  in 
number,  and  constitute  together  an  impressive  moral 
lesson,  which  speaks  through  the  eye  to  the  heart. 
Many  have  gazed  upon  them  with  delight.  When 
they  were  first  opened  by  a  number  of  artists  in  one 
of  our  cities,  the  impression  on  their  minds,  it  is 
said,  was  so  deep,  that,  for  a  while,  not  a  word  was 
spoken.  The  effect  was  too  great  even  for  commend- 
ation. 

Mr.  Cole  had  the  faculty  not  only  of  copying 
nature,  —  an  art  in  which  he  stood  almost  unrivalled, 
—  but  of  combining  with  the  finest  touches  of  the 
pencil  high  moral  associations.  His  Voyage  of  Life 
will  probably  stand  as  a  permanent  memorial  of  his 
genius. 


2051574 


IV  PREFACE. 

la  this  pictorial  voyage,  Mr.  Cole  has  chosen  a 
fanciful  combination,  unlike  anything  by  which  nauti- 
cal life  is  usually  characterized.  It  is  not  a  ship,  but 
a  fairy  shallop.  It  is  not  the  ocean,  but  a  river.  He 
has  gone  to  the  fountain-head,  and  there  launched  his 
light  craft,  and  carried  her  forward,  with  her  precious 
freight,  until  that  river  disembogues  into  the  great 
ocean  of  the  future. 

Upon  this  series  of  beautiful  allegorical  paintings 
this  little  book  founds  its  lessons  of  moral  wisdom.  It 
is  designed,  as  the  title  imports,  to  furnish  the  voyager 
with  the  requisite  outfit.  It  is  hoped  that  all  who 
may  give  their  attention  to  its  pages —  especially  those 
who  have  recently  embarked  on  this  uncertain  sea  — 
will  be  the  better  prepared  to  encounter  the  vicissitudes 
of  the  voyage,  and  be  more  likely  in  the  end  to  arrive 
at  the  haven  of  eternal  rest. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PARS 

THE  EMBARCATION, 7 

CHAPTER    II. 
YOUTH, 2(5 

CHAPTER    III. 
PKH1LS  OF   YOL'TII, 50 

CHAPTER    IV. 
MANHOOD 68 

C  II  AP  T  E  R    V. 
TUIALS  —  HOW   TO   UK  MET, 91 

CHAPTER    VI. 
OLD   AGE, 121 

CHAPTER    VII. 

ITS  ENJOYMENTS  AND  ITS  END, 103 


THE  VOYAGE   OP  LIFE. 


CHAPT  ER    I. 

THE   EMBARCATIOX. 

IN  the  first  picture  in  the  series,  the  eye  is 
at  once  arrested  by  the  air  of  freshness  and 
beauty  that  pervades  it.  All  is  mild  as  the  first 
rays  of  morning  light.  Everything  is  appro- 
priate to  the  dawn  of  existence,  the  embarcation 
of  human  destiny.  The  spring-time  of  nature's 
gladness  and  variety  seems  here  pictured.  The 
skies  are  soft,  the  buds  are  opening,  the  leaflet 
is  shooting,  the  very  atmosphere  seems  redolent 
of  sweets.  From  a  grotto  in  the  foreground 
•where  light  and  shade  are  intermingled,  where 
hope  and  fancy  might  playfully  conjecture  a 
thousand  hidden  images  of  beauty,  there  issues  a 
stream,  taking  its  way  amid  overhanging  shrub- 


8  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

bery,  meandering  and  circling  between  its  banks  of 
enamelled  green,  reminding  us  of  one  of  the  rivers 
which  took  its  rise  in  the  original  Paradise.  On 
the  bosom  of  this  placid  stream,  and  not  far 
from  the  grotto,  you  see  a  curious  and  fanciful 
boat,  light  and  graceful  as  if  constructed  for 
some  fairy  form,  unlike  any  water-vehicle  that 
•was  ever  built.  It  is  neither  the  fleet-winged 
yacht  nor  the  gorgeous  gondola.  It  seems  to 
be  woven  out  of  osiers  and  flowers,  and  moves  like 
a  thing  of  life,  without  sail  or  oar,  to  its  dark  or 
its  glorious  destination. 

Here  see  the  artist's  power.  How  unique, 
how  frail,  yet  how  beautiful !  It  has  no  sail ;  it 
goes  with  the  stream,  and  needs  none.  It  has 
no  oars ;  an  invisible  hand  guides  and  moves  it. 
In  this  boat,  surrounded  by  flowers,  sits  an 
infant  in  the  fulness  of  health,  whose  sweet 
smile  gives  token  of  a  pleasure  which  the  play 
of  its  new-born  faculties  has  inspired.  You  see 
'on  its  face  not  the  slightest  indication  of  fear. 
Its  little  eyes  are  dazzled  by  the  flowers  in 
which  it  sits  imbedded,  and  its  ear  is  soothed  by 


THE    EMBARCATIOX.  9 

the  melodies  of  the  bird  and  the  murmur  of  the 
stream ;  and  you  cannot  help  sympathizing  in  its 
infantile  joy. 

But,  as  you  gaze,  you  are  ready  to  exclaim. 
Who  is  this  that  has  charge  of  the  helpless 
though  delighted  being  ?  The  artist  has  antici- 
pated your  anxiety,  and  invites  your  attention  to 
a  bright  form  that  stands  near  the  object  of  your 
solicitude.  It  is  the  Guardian  Angel.  Its 
shadowy  outlhie  of  beauty  agrees  well  with  the 
idea  of  spiritual  beings.  It  watches,  with  an  eye 
of  pure  benevolence,  over  its  lovely  charge.  It 
starts  with  it  in  the  beginning  of  its  being. 
Commissioned  from  above  to  attend  upon  the 
young  voyager,  and  true  to  its  trust,  it  hovers 
near,  and  observes,  with  a  heaven-inspired  solici- 
tude, the  events  as  they  occur.  Seeing  this 
angel  in  the  boat,  you  feel  relieved.  Personified 
in  this  angel  is  a  benignant  and  ever-watchful 
providence. 

Such  is  an  outline  of  the  first  picture  in  the 
series,  denominated  Childhood.  If  in  this  paint- 
ing there  be  room  for  criticism,  I  leave  it  to  be 


10  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

occupied  by  those  who  have  more  artistical  skill 
than  myself.  My  business  is  with  the  moral  of 
the  painting. 


The  object  of  the  artist  seems  to  be  to  portray 
in  colors  the  most  beautiful  the  dawn  of  life,  the 
first  embarcation  on  the  perilous  voyage  of  exist- 
ence. Of  course,  he  must  begin  with  infancy, 
He  must  take  humanity  in  the  bud ;  for  all  begin 
life  here.  The  greatest  intellects,  the  most 
renowned  statesmen  and  warriors,  the  most  elo- 
quent and  the  most  gifted  of  mortals, —  those 
whose  names  shine  brightest  on  the  scroll  of  fame, 
—  all  have  had  their  beginning  in  the  weakness 
of  infancy.  The  bad  as  well  as  the  good,  the 
miscreant,  the  felon,  the  murderer,  were  once 
prattling  infants,  and  smiled  as  sweetly,  and 
played  as  innocently,  as  the  most  virtuous  and 
holy.  They,  too.  may  have  been  born  in  Pleas- 
ure's grotto,  and  sported  on  the  flowery  banks 
of  her  beautiful  river.  Their  first  embarcation 
may  have  been  auspicious,  delightful,  even  full 


THE    EMBARCATION.  11 

of  promise.  But  how  different  their  career  ! 
How  unlike  their  destiny  !  Will  not  the  reader 
sympathize  with  these  reflections  ? 

Who  has  not  been  struck  with  the  fact  that 
the  greatest  minds  were  once  shrouded  in  an 
infantile  body?  Has  it  not  seemed  almost  mirac- 
ulous, that  out  of  such  frail  materials  Providence, 
by  the  force  of  circumstances,  should  produce 
such  genius,  such  mental  power,  such  all-com- 
manding influence  1  What  is  this,  but  a  proof 
of  man's  immortality '}  How  can  we  resist  the 
conviction  that  a  mind  so  kindred  to  higher 
intelligences,  passing  so  soon  from  infantile 
weakness  to  great  intellectual  power,  must  have 
in  it  the  seeds  of  immortality)  And  how  mel- 
ancholy has  been  the  reflection  that,  from  a 
childhood  so  apparently  innocent,  so  susceptible 
of  good  impressions,  there  should  come  the 
dark-minded  plotter  of  sin,  the  besotted  drunk- 
ard, the  felon,  the  murderer !  How  differently 
is  the  voyage  of  life  made  by  mortals !  —  with 
what  different  results,  ending  in  disgrace  or  in 
glory ! 


12  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

Why  has  the  artist,  in  his  beautifully  pictured 
allegory,  sent  a  mere  infant  afloat  on  the  treach- 
erous stream,  to  be  wafted  whithersoever  the 
current  may  carry  it  ?  The  reason  must  have 
been,  as  we  conceive,  to  show  its  dependence  on 
an  overruling  providence.  Each  child,  as  it 
starts  on  the  voyage  of  life,  is  in  the  hands  of 
God.  He  ordained  all  the  circumstances  of  its 
first  and  feeble  existence.  His  hand  kept  alive 
the  spark  of  vitality,  which  at  the  birth  seemed 
barely  to  glimmer,  as  if  a  cold  breath  of  air 
almost  might  have  extinguished  it.  He  it  is 
who  makes  every  bright  object  of  nature  so 
attractive  to  the  young  eye,  and  causes  an  exhil- 
aration and  playfulness  to  spring  from  the  very 
motion  of  its  expanding  muscles.  But  for  his 
guardian  care,  that  frail  creature,  even  under  a 
parent's  watchful  eye,  could  not  reach  the  period 
of  youth.  *How  many, — yea,  what  a  large  major- 
ity of  the  human  race, —  only  enter  upon  the 
voyage ;  just  launch,  as  it  were,  on  the  river,  and 
then  sink  into  its  cold  bosom  !  The  fairy  shallop 
is  stranded  on  the  flowery  bank  of  its  head- 


THE   EMBA11CATION.  18 

waters.  How  many  have  I  seen  coffined  at  this 
early  age !  How  many  soft  eyelids  have  been 
closed  forever  over  their  once  beautiful  orbs;  and 
the  marble  brow,  so  still  to  the  sight,  so  cold  to 
the  touch,  has  told  me  that  the  voyage  was 
ended  almost  as  soon  as  it  began  '.  Around  the 
form  and  on  the  coffin-lid  have  been  disposed 
sweet  buds  and  flowers,  striking  emblems  of  the 
beauty  and  the  frailty  of  that  once  animated  but 
now  lifeless  clay. 

But  who  shall  mourn  for  such  voyagers?  The 
parental  heart  is  allowed  that  privilege.  Relig- 
ion, in  this  concession,  pays  her  tribute  to  nature, 
and  sanctifies  the  sorrow  by  making  it  the  source 
of  good  to  the  sufferer.  But  I  might  address 
even  the  mother,  and  say,  "  Thy  regret  and  sor- 
row are  reasonable  only  because  natural.  Thy 
loved  one  has  been  wrecked  in  the  neighborhood 
of  heaven.  It  had  not  got  far  from  its  origin, — 
the  hand  of  God.  The  stream,  set  in  motion  by 
its  Maker,  had  not  borne  it  out  of  sight  of  the 
celestial  shores.  An  eye  that  could  penetrate 
the  future  may  have  seen  in  the  distance  the 
2 


14  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

dark  form  of  the  tempter ;  or  the  sad  images  of 
grief  may  have  been  seen  waiting  to  haunt  its 
soul.  The  river  might  soon  have  darkened  into 
a  stormy  flood ;  and  its  maturity  have  been 
exposed  to  worse  than  adversity  —  to  vice  and 
endless  ruin.  From  all  these  perils  and  trials 
has  God  sheltered  it  ?  Has  ho  cut  short  its 
earthly  career  at  the  outset  of  existence,  that  it 
may  spread  its  pinions  in  the  atmosphere  of 
.  heaven  ?  Has  he  transferred  it  to  the  river  of 
life  that  proceedeth  out  of  his  throne,  where  no 
temptations,  no  dark  forms  of  sin,  can  ever  invade 
its  bliss  or  its  purity  ?  Is  this  so  1  Then  dry 
thy  tears ;  or,  if  they  still  must  flow,  let  them 
express  thy  gratitude  as  well  as  thy  grief,  thy 
resignation  as  well  as  thy  sorrow/' 

But  the  allegory  had  in  view  the  continuance 
of  life.  It  presents  us  with  the  child  as  seated 
in  the  flowery-decked  barge,  and  gliding  on  to 
where  the  stream  Avill  increase  and  the  dangers 
will  thicken.  In  this  view,  the  interest  is  even 
greater  than  where  the  voyage  ends  in  infancy, 
If  God  has  taken  our  little  ones,  we  have  no  fur- 


THE    EMBARCATIOX.  15 

ther  care  of  them.  We  know  they  are  safe. 
What  they  are  to  be  is  no  anxiety  of  ours.  Faith 
and  hope  have  taught  us  that  the  celestial  state 
has  no  moral  dangers ;  and  that,  when  claimed  by 
Heaven,  the  cares  and  responsibilities  of  the 
earthly  parent  towards  them  are  ended. 

But  the  living,  growing  child,  still  under  our 
eye,  in  our  arms,  dependent  upon  us,  looking 
to  us,  living  on  our  smile,  forming  its  taste,  its 
moral  character  even,  under  every  influence 
which,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  we  are 
throwing  around  it, —  this  child,  so  related,  is  a 
trust  too  awful  to  be  conceived. 

See  the  mother  bending  over  it  in  calm  delight 

O  o 

as  it  sleeps,  and  imprinting  a  soft  kiss  on  its 
brow ;  or,  as  it  wakes  and  smiles,  giving  it  the 
answering  smile  of  love,  pressing  it  to  her  bosom, 
silently  musing  over  it  in  a  sort  of  dreamy 
pleasure ;  full  of  fears,  if  it  betray  uneasiness  or 
pain,  and  agitated  if  the  pulse  beat  rapidly,  or 
the  breath  grow  quick  and  hot !  Wonderful  is 
the  love  that  beats  in  a  mother's  heart !  It  is  a 
provision,  a  security  for  helpless  infancy,  which  a 


16  THE   VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 

gracious  Providence  has  furnished;  an  instinct 
the  most  effective,  an  antagonist  the  most  power- 
ful, against  the  natural  selfishness  of  the  human 
heart. 

It  is  the  mother's  hand  that  spreads  flowers 
around  the  young  voyager, —  makes  its  couch  so 
soft,  its  moments  run  so  cheerful,  —  that  puts 
before  its  eye  the  brightest  pictures  to  attract 
and  to  please.  In  its  life  is  her  life.  It  is  her 
second  self, —  more  loved  than  herself.  This  is 
nature. 

But  a  reflecting  parent  will  not  rest  in  this 
instinctive  love ;  nor  suppose,  because,  under  its 
influence,  the  physical  wants  of  the  child  are 
attended  to,  that  her  duty  and  her  enjoyment 
there  must  end.  The  reflecting  parent,  espec- 
ially the  Christian  mother,  will  think  of  what 
is  to  be.  She  will  rise  above  the  mere  instincts 
into  the  higher  region  of  duty.  She  will  look 
on  her  child,  not  as  a  part  of  her  being  only, 
but  as  an  individual  existence,  in  whose  destiny 
for  both  worlds  she  is  to  feel  an  interest,  and  to 
Wield  an  influence. 


THE   EMBAttCATION.  IT 

Such  a  parent  looks  into  the  cradle,  and  says 
to  herself:  "  There  is  an  immortal  spirit  in 
embryo.  It  is  a  young  voyager,  just  starting 
on  the  stream  of  life,  unconscious  of  its  capabili- 
ties, and  unapprized  of  its  destiny.  Its  animal 
nature  is  now  in  full  play ;  and  the  exercise  of  its 
functions  in  eating,  sleeping,  smiling,  seeing, 
hearing,  moving,  gives  it  delight.  The  mind 
has  yet  scarcely  dawned.  The  soul  is  in  a 
twilight  existence.  But  how  soon  will  the 
thought  begin  to  stir,  the  will  to  develop,  and 
the  desire  to  be  expressed !  ITow  soon  wll  the 
animal  be  in  conflict  with  the  spiritual  nature ! 
How  soon  will  be  heard  the  l  wilV  and  the 
lworftj  the  'yes'  and  the  'no,'  the  'must' 
and  the  '  shall '  !  Ere  long  the  passions  will  cry 
out  for  indulgence,  and  the  conscience  will 
whisper  its  rebukes,  and  the  sense  of  right  and 
wrong  engrave  itself  on  the  responsible  soul !  " 

What  is  this  child  to  be  ?  what  is  the  man  to 

be,  who  is  born,  as  it  were,  out  of  this  child  ?     In 

a  limited,  though  very  important  sense,   ' :  the 

child  is  father  to  the  man."     Who  does  not  see 

2* 


18  THE  VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

a  shadow  of  the  future  manhood  in  the  child  1 
And,  retrospectively,  who  cannot  trace  in  the 
man  the  faint  lineaments  Avhich  dawned  in  early 
childhood? 

Standing,  then,  at  the  head- waters  of  life's 
eventful  flow, —  at  the  placid  streamlet  that 
glides  between  green  and  flowery  hanks, — the 
parent  is  to  survey  the  frail  voyager  at  the  out- 
set ;  and,  to  adopt  a  nautical  phrase,  to  see  that 
it  has  a  good  "  offing."  Whatever  can  be  done, 
in  that  period  of  its  existence, —  whatever  can 
contribute  to  make  the  passage  safe  and  success- 
ful, to  guard  against  ultimate  shipwreck, —  must, 
under  God,  be  faithfully  done. 

EDUCATION   SHOULD   BEGIN   IN  INFANCY. 

Until  the  principle  be  more  generally  admitted 
and  acted  upon  that  education  should  begin  in 
infancy,  we  shall  have,  I  fear,  many  examples 
of  voyagers  who  reach  an  early  or  an  inglorious 
end.  But,  in  so  infantile  a  period,  what  can  be 
done,  save  to  develop  its  bodily  powers,  and 
secure  to  it  a  good  share  of  health  and  vigor  ? 


THE    EMBARCATIOX.  19 

What  have  we  to  do  for  it,  but  to  satisfy  its 
cravings  after  food,  to  give  it  rest,  and  to  amuse 
it  -with  a  variety  of  sights  and  sounds  1  And  all 
this  can  be  done  by  proxy.  This  is  the  nurse's 
vocation.  Alas,  when  mothers  so  reason ! 
With  such  views,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the 
young  adventurer  will  have  but  a  poor  outfit  'for 
the  voyage  of  life.  If  it  were  a  mere  animal, 
a  pet  dog,  the  mother  could  scarcely  do  less. 
If  its  soul  came  not  with  its  body,  but  was  in- 
fused afterwards,  there  might  be  some  reason  for 
such  a  course.  But,  even  then,  its  physical 
frame,  so  intimately  associated  with  mind  and 
spirit,  and  exerting  so  much  influence  over  them, 
ought  not  to  be  committed  to  irresponsible  hands. 
The  mother  who  bore  it  should  ordinarily  feed 
it,  through  the  channels  which  both  nature  and 
affection  have  indicated ;  and  her  hands  should 
have  a  large  share  in  administering  to  its  daily 
wants.  The  earliest  sympathies  of  the  child 
should  be  drawn  around  the  mother.  The 
ligature  which  nature  has  supplied  between  them 
should  not  be  broken  by  the  interposition  of  a 


20  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

third  person ;  who,  though  she  be  officially  faith- 
ful, can  never  supply  the  mother's  place,  and 
towards  whom  every  affection  that  flows  from  the 
child  is  so  much  moral  power  taken  from  its 
natural  guardian.  The  rjch  may  have  less  care 
in  this  respect ;  but  the  poor  mother  has  a  higher 
and' more  lasting  recompense. 

But  the  child,  even  at  its  birth,  has  a  soul. 
It  is  a  spark  of  immortality,  at  least ;  a  spark 
that  must  grow  to  a  flame,  and  burst  forth  in  the 
responsible  doings  of  after-life.  From  the  first,  it 
should  be  treated  under  this  impression:  "  I  am 
dealing  with  a  young  immortal.  I  am  educating 
passions  which  are  to  influence  the  intellect  and  the 
moral  powers.  My  smile,  my  frown,  my  £  yes  ' 
and  my  'no,'  are  acting  directly  on  the  senses, 
but  indirectly  on  the  soul.  If  I  yield  to  its  im- 
portunate and  angry  cries,  fearing  that  such 
violent  ebullitions  may  injure  its  health,  what 
am  I  doing,  but  augmenting  a  power  of  selfish- 
ness, a  tyranny  of  the  will,  that,  in  after- 
life, may  set  my  ^commands  at  defiance  ?  If  its 
capricious  appetite  refuse  wholesome  food,  and 


THE    EMBARCATIOX.  21 

hanker  after  dainties,  and  I  yield  to  its  clamors, 
supplying  it  to  its  heart's  content,  what  is  this, 
but  training  a  young  sensualist,  who,  by  and  by, 
may  be  an  habitual  inmate  of  the  drinking-saloon 
or  the  tavern?  If  I  accustom  it  to  endless 
variety  in  its  toys  and  its  amusements,  allowing 
it  to  destroy  the  old  and  to  call  for  new  ones 
which,  after  a  little  satiety,  it  devotes  to  a  simi- 
lar destruction,  how  certainly  am  I  laying  the 
foundation  for  spendthrift  habits,  and  a  restless, 
dissatisfied  temper  !  ' ' 

"  Keep  the  child  still,  at  any  rate,"  is  the 
motto  with  some.  Please  it,  even  if  you  have  to 
surrender  your  wardrobe  to  rending,  your 
furniture  to  scathing,  and  your  fancy-work  to 
demolition. 

Some  parents  would  rather  hear,  one  would 
think,  the  crash  of  a  looking-glass,  than  the 
uneasy  moan  of  a  child.  "  Keep  it  still ;  please 
it,  at  any  rate,"  is  their  maxim.  How  cruel  is 
such  kindness !  How  selfishly  cruel  such 
policy  !  That  child  has  a  mind,  a  soul,  which, 
by  these  means,  you  are  training  to  a  desperate 


22  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

encounter  with  its  conscience,  its  duty  and  its 
God.  You  are  nursing  the  scorpion  self-will, 
which,  after  it  has  flung  its  poison  into  others, — 
yea,  not  seldom  into  the  very  veins  that  nursed 
it, —  will  turn  upon  itself,  and  become,  in  the 
end,  its  own  destroyer. 

But  it  is  thought  that  the  child  is  too  young 
to  know  the  right  from  the  wrong.  It  is  taken 
for  granted  that  the  babe  is,  as  yet,  ignorant  of 
its  victories ;  and  that  what  is  done,  in  the  way 
of  indulgence,  at  so  early  a  period,  can  have  no 
influence  on  its  subsequent  life.  Fatal  mistake  ! 
The  mother  has  been  heard  to  declare,  with  a 
sorrowing  tone,  that  she  knew  not  why  it  was 
that  her  children  were  so  selfish,  so  hard  to 
control,  so  stubborn  !  She  had  done  everything 
possible  for  their  good, —  had  denied  herself  to 
gratify  them.  And  it  was  all  true.  But  she 
had  miscalculated  in  her  estimation  of  human 
nature.  The  children  may  have  required  a 
somewhat  different  treatment.  They  may  have 
needed  more  control,  more  authority,  even 
when  authority  could  be  felt  only  in  the  restraint 


THE    EMBARCATION.  23 


of  muscle  and  in  the  limitation  of  sensual  desire. 
Their  will  should  have  been  bowed  so  early  as 
any  will,  in  opposition  to  the  parent,  was  mani- 
fested. Alas  !  the  whole  training  of  some  is  to 
give  force  to  the  natural  selfishness  of  the  heart ! 
In  after-life, —  further  on  in  the  voyage. —  such 
training  gives  us  the  mean  character,  as  the 
miser ;  the  reckless  character,  as  the  spendthrift ; 
the  cruel  character,  as  the  extortioner  ;  the 
ambitious  character,  who  sacrifices  everything  to 
his  own  dominion,  and  the  sensualist,  who 
degrades  his  nature  to  the  level  of  the  brute. 

Infant  training  is  a  subject  on  which  the 
physician  and  the  moralist  should  unite  their 
influence,  to  convince  negligent  parents  of  their 
duty  and  responsibility.  To  have  obedient 
children,  moral  children,  healthy  children, 
those  who  "  shall  praise  us  in  the  gates," — 
especially  to  have  children  who  shall  fear  God 
and  keep  his  commandments, —  we  must  begin  to 
train  them,  by  the  divine  help,  from  their  very 
infancy.  Be  it  ours  to  watch  the  opening  mind, 
the  developing  dispositions,  the  first  buddings  of 


THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 


selfishness,  the  earliest  opposition  of  the  will;  and 
to  plant  our  authority  and  influence  —  always 
kindly  put  forth  —  at  the  fountain-head  of  ex- 
istence. 

Our  children  have  natures  that  need  a  correct- 
ive more  prompt,  more  constant,  more  persever- 
ing, than  we  are  apt  to  imagine.  Yet,  with  all  our 
efforts,  even  where  such  efforts  are  well  directed 
and  faithfully  applied,  we  are  to  depend  on  a 
higher  power  to  give  success.  He  who  gave  us 
these  little  ones,  who  launched  them  on  the 
stream  of  life  by  our  side,  who  has  them  entirely 
in  his  control,  He  alone  can  give  them  the  dis- 
positions and  tendencies  which  shall  reward  our 
toils,  and  realize  our  parental  longings.  Recog- 
nizing this  dependence,  let  us  consecrate  our 
children  to  God,  imploring  his  aid  in  their  edu- 
cation, and  seeking  his  grace  to  shape  their 
character  to  piety  and  virtue  ! 

The  Christian  will  say,  "  These  children  are 
not  mine ;  they  are  God's.  I  am  but  their 
earthly  and  responsible  guardian;  and  now,  0, 
for  some  angel  to  be  sent  to  my  child,  like  that 


THE    EMBARCATION.  25 

beauteous  form  which  I  see  in  yonder  frail  bark, 
to  keep  an  eye  of  solicitude  fixed  on  that  young, 
unconscious  voyager  !  0,  for  such  an  one,  to  be 
his  constant  guide  through  the  dangers  and  perils 
which  await  him, —  to  allure  him  ever  towards 
that  light  in  yonder  heavens,  dimly  shining  over 
the  great  estuary  which  opens  from  time  to 
immortality ! ' ' 
3 


CHAPTER   II. 

YOUTH. 

THE  panorama  shifts,  and  we  behold  the 
second  phase  of  human  life.  There  is  but  a  step, 
and  that  a  very  short  one,  between  childhood 
and  youth.  How  quickly  is  it  taken  !  The 
mother  is  changing  its  garments  every  month, 
and  yet  nature  almost  outstrips  her  ingenuity. 
The  infant  habiliments  are  soon  shredded  off,  and 
the  youth  asks  for  something  more  manly  to 
cover  his  expanding  form.  But  yesterday  his 
little  limbs  were  tottering  in  their  first  efforts  at 
locomotion ;  now  he  is  bounding  like  the  roe. 
He  is  out  of  the  lap  and  out  of  the  arms ;  and  his 
eye  is  growing  bright,  almost  wild,  with  the  stir- 
ring impulses  of  youthful  ambition. 

The  mother  begins  to  mingle  somewhat  of 
anxiety  in  her  look  of  affection.  The  father  lays 
his  hand  on  the  head  of  his  boy,  and  says, 


27 

"  Beware,  my  son,  of  the  dangers  -which  beset 
thy  path." 

Look  now  at  the  picture  before  us !  The 
whole  scene  has  expanded  into  broader  propor- 
tions. The  river  is  wider,  swifter,  yet  how 
beautiful !  The  trees  are  loftier ;  and  from  the 
cultivated  hills. —  cultivated  even  to  the  river's 
brink,  —  rise  in  the  back-ground  stupendous 
mountains,  burying  their  summits  in  the  richly- 
tinted  clouds.  There  is  a  warmth  and  animation 
in  the  atmosphere  partaking  of  the  glow  of  the 
tropics  and  the  bracing  vigor  of  the  colder 
regions.  Every  feature  of  the  landscape  is  alive 
and  bright ;  as  if  nature,  in  her  prime,  or  rather 
in  her  youth,  were  accommodating  herself  to  the 
passionate  ardor  of  the  voyager,  who,  having 
seized  the  helm,  is  steering  his  own  way  amid  a 
wilderness  of  sweets. 

The  angel,  it  would  seem,  has  left  the  beauti- 
ful boy  alone  in  the  boat ;  but  she  is  standing 
near,  and  watching  him  with  apparent  solicitude, 
as,  reckless  of  danger,  he  ploughs  his  course 
onward,  with  his  eye  fixed  on  those  cloud-capped 


28  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

towers  which  fire  his  ambition.  The  shallop's 
prow  is  towards  the  point  of  danger,  but  has 
not  actually  reached  it.  There  is  a  curve  in  the 
stream  not  far  hence,  where  the  current  runs 
more  impetuously,  and  seems  to  descend  in 
foaming  rapids;  but,  as  yet,  all  this  is  prospect- 
ive and  hidden.  The  young  aspirant  stands  up 
in  all  the  glow  of  youthful  anticipation,  glancing 
his  eye  towards  that  air-built  and  cloudy  dome, 
which  appears  like  a  dim  vision  of  grandeur  high 
up  in  the  heavens. 


SELF-COXFIDENCE. 


The  first  thought  that  suggests  itself  is,  the 
apparent  self-reliance  of  the  young  voyager. 
The  angel  has  left  the  boat ;  and  on  that  youth- 
ful brow  there  sits  an  air  of  proud  independence, 
as  if  confident  that  he  can  steer  the  frail  vessel 
without  the  help  of  others. 

How  true  a  picture  of  human  nature  !  One 
of  the  first  efforts  of  boyhood  is  to  stand  alone, 
to  cut  loose  from  the  moorings  of  authority  and 
dependence,  and  to  set  up  for  himself.  He 


YOUTH.  29 

wants  not  the  parental  eye  to  watch  over  him, 
nor  the  parental  hand  to  steady  his  footsteps. 
"Let  me  go  alone  ;  let  me  do  the  thing  myself. 
"Why  cannot  I  take  care  of  myself?  Must  I 
always  be  a  child,  a  baby?  " 

Timidly  and  slowly  does  the  parent  yield  to 
this  reasoning,  and  to  these  importunities.  His 
experience  of  life  leads  him  to  fear  for  his  beloved 
child,  when  out  of  the  reach  of  his  eye  and  his 
admonition.  The  father  knows  well  the  rough 
and  turbid  character  of  the  stream  ;  the  rocks 
and  snags  that  underlie  it,  upon  which  the  in- 
experienced voyager  is  in  danger  of  making  ship- 
wreck ;  and  he  lets  go  the  young  hand  reluct- 
antly, and  with  many  an  anxious  foreboding. 

Self-reliance  is  a  fine  trait  of  character,  when 
under  due  control ;  when  modified  by  a  proper 
sense  of  dependence  upon  •  divine  aid,  and  by  a 
proper  appreciation  of  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
to  be  encountered. 

No  parent — no  judicious  parent  certainly — 
would  wish  to  keep  his  son  in  leading-strings, 
when  the  time  for  self-government  and  energetic 
3* 


30  THE   VOYAGE   OF   LIFE. 

action  had  arrived.  Every  boy  must,  sooner  or 
later,  be  put  upon  his  own  resources.  In  the 
great  struggle  of  life,  he  must  take  his  chance, 
so  to  speak,  with  the  rest.  He  should  be  made 
to  feel  that  he  has  got  to  cut  his  own  way 
through  the  world  ;  and  that  personal  energy  — 
the  resolution  to  do,  the  indomitable  purpose  to 
succeed  —  has  no  small  influence  in  insuring 
success,  and  in  placing  an  individual  in  a  position 
of  respectability. 

But  the  tendency  is  to  get  rid  prematurely  of 
parental  authority  and  supervision ;  to  stand 
alone,  and  to  move  alone ;  to  set  up  for  himself 
at  too  early  a  period,—  at  a -period  when,  more 
than  at  any  other  during  life,  the  youth  needs, 
for  his  safe  guidance,  the  counsels  of  a  parent  or 
guardian.  The  misfortune,  however,  is  that,  in 
his  self-confidence,  hQ  entertains  no  fears  and 
perceives  no  dangers.  He  wants  no  angel  in  the 
boat  with  him.  He  had  rather  be  guided  by  his 
own  eye  than  turn  for  aid  to  the  ever-watchful 
guardian  that  hovers  near  him.  Presumptuous 
youth !  Thou  knowest  not  thy  weakness,  nor 


YOUTH.  31 

the  perils  that  surround  thee.  Alas  !  it  may  be 
thou  wilt  know  them  both  too  late  for  effectual 
succor ! 

How  astonishing  it  is,  and  what  a  proof  it  is 
of  the  perversity  of  our  nature,  that  a  youth  in 
his  teens  should  deem  his  judgment  equal,  if 
not  superior,  to  that  of  his  parent;  that  he 
should  wish  to  seize  the  helm,  and  direct  his  own 
course,  when  he  has  so  little  experience  of  the 
ways  of  life,  and  so  little  knowledge  of  human 
nature !  Let  him  reflect  a  moment.  Who  is 
most  likely  to  know  the  direction  and  the  dangers 
of  a  certain  voyage, —  to  understand  the  needful 
outfit. —  he  who  has  made  that  voyage,  who  has 
actually  passed  over  the  given  course,  or  he 
who  is  just  about  to  launch  upon  the  treacherous 
flood  1  The  parent  has  himself  been  young ;  has 
stood  in  the  very  position  where  his  child  now 
stands;  has  experienced  the  impulses  and  the 
aspirations,  the  hopes  and  the  disappointments,  of 
youth.  He  has,  too,  in  sad  remembrance,  his 
own  follies,  the  results  of  his  own  self-confidence; 
and  he  is  prepared  to  point  out  the  breakers 


32  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

on  which  his  inexperience  had  well-nigh  driven 
him. 

Besides,  what  motive,  what  possible  motive, 
can  the  parent  have  for  opposing  his  child's 
wishes,  save  that  of  disinterested  love  ?  It  is  in 
his  heart  to  gratify  his  child  in  every  reasonable 
desire ;  and  it  is  only  when,  in  the  light  of  his 
own  past  experience,  he  sees  him  likely  to  make 
a  wrong  choice,  to  steer  in  a  wrong  direction, 
that  he  can  bring  himself  to  take  a  stand  in 
opposition  to  his  wishes.  Think  of  this,  dear 
youth,  and  defer  to  parental  experience,  rather 
than  insist  upon  having  thy  own  way,  or  to 
plunge  forward  merely  to  gratify  thy  own  too 
obstinate  will ! 


DOMESTIC   TRAINING. 


In  the  domestic  training  of  children  and  youth, 
there  has  been  a  gradual  but  very  perceptible 
change  from  the  system  which  was  in  vogue  fifty 
years  ago.  There  is  more  lenity,  more  liberty, 
and  more  indulgence,  on  the  part  of  the  parent ; 


YOUTH.  66 

more  insubordination,  more  self-confidence   and 
more  restlessness,  on  the  part  of  the  child. 

Children  are  brought  forward  earlier  now, — 
they  get  into  clothes  sooner.  The  swaddling- 
bands  are  off  sooner :  and  the  mimic  boy  tottles 
in  pants,  or  struts  in  a  tight  jacket,  at  an  age 
when,  according  to  former  usage,  he  would  have 
worn  a  smock  and  been  rocked  in  a  cradle.  We 
see  little  mimic  men  and  women  about  our  streets, 
led  by  nurses,  who  display  them  in  their  ambi- 
tious finery,  for  the  admiration  of  some,  and  the 
disgust  of  others.  If,  in  putting  the  young 
limbs  under  this  constraint,,  there  be  any  demur- 
ring on  the  part  of  the  child,  he  is  coaxed  into 
compliance  by  the  declaration,  "  Charley  must  be 
a  little  man  now."  And  this  Charley  is  trained 
to  think  himself  a  man,  when  as  yet  he  has 
scarcely  attained  the  stature  of  boyhood  !  What 
wonder,  then,  if  the  little  pet  should  take  it  into 
his  head  that,  being  dressed  like  a  man,  and 
urged  to  emulate  manhood,  he  should  assume 
the  characteristics  and  enjoy  the  privileges  of 
that  enviable  state  !  "Why  should  I  not,"  says 


34  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

he,  "  do  as  men  do,  and  go  where  I  see  men 
go?" 

A  child's  reasoning  is  not  worth  much,  I  admit; 
but,  if  the  proud  or  capricious  or  indulgent  parent 
furnishes  him  the  premises,  the  upstart  boy  can- 
not be  very  much  blamed  for  reaching  so  natural 
a  conclusion.  Children  are  not  only  put  earlier 
into  fashionable  gear,  but  they  are  more  petted 
and  indulged,  than  formerly.  They  sit  at  the 
table,  whereas  it  was  once  the  custom  to  stand. 
They  talk,  when  once  it  would  have  been  ex- 
pected they  should  keep  silence.  They  are  not 
only  admitted  to  the  company  of  older  persons, 
but  their  opinions  are  given,  and  their  voices 
heard,  sometimes  even  above  their  seniors.  The 
old  adage,  that  "  a  child  should  be  seen  and  not 
heard,"  has  long  since  become  obsolete. 

Much  more  deference  is  paid  to  a  child's 
wishes  than  formerly.  Many  a  reader  will  recol- 
lect that,  less  than  fifty  years  ago,  it  was  not  a 
very  common  thing  to  hear  a  parent  consult  the 
child  as  to  what  he  would  like  best.  The  parent, 


YOUTH.  85 

knowing  what  he  ought  to  like  best,  decided  the 
matter  for  him. 

It  was  not,  "James,  would  you  like  such  or 
such  a  garment  ?"  but  the  garment  —  a  suitable 
one,  of  course  —  was  made  for  him,  and  James 
was  glad  to  put  it  on  and  wear  it.  It  was  not 
said,  "  My  dear,  if  this  kind  of  food  is  not  agree- 
able, you  shall  have  something  that  you  do  like; " 
but  the  food  was  set  before  the  child,  and,  if  he 
were  at  all  dainty,  he  might  wait  until  his  appe- 
tite returned.  James  was  not  consulted  as  to 
what  school  he  would  like  to  attend.  One  was 
selected,  and  the  boy  was  told  to  go  and  do  his 
best. 

How  different,  in  general,  is  the  case  now ! 
The  writer,  inquiring  of  a  friend  what  he 
intended  to  do  with  his  son,  was  answered  by 
the  father  as  follows  :  "  Augustus  has  a  mind  to 
mercantile  life ;  and,  as  I  hold  that  a  boy's  taste 
and  preferences  should  be  consulted  in  such  mat- 
ters, I  think  I  shall  put  him  in  a  store.  I 
should  like  very  much  to  give  him  a  liberal  edu- 
cation ;  but  he  dislikes  the  idea  of  going  to  col- 


36  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 


lege ;  so  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  make  a  mer- 
chant of  him.  —  Is  it  not  so,  Gussey?;'  Gus- 
sey  smiled  assent,  of  course  :  and  so  Gussey  had 
the  ordering  of  his  own  destiny.  Is  it  surpris- 
ing that  he  turned  out  a  vagabond  1 

Another  father,  whom  I  could  name,  said  to 
John  and  William,  even  when  they  scarcely 
knew  what  a  college  meant,  "  My  sons,  you  are 
to  study  hard,  and  get  ready  for  college."  This 
was  understood,  and  no  other  thought  entered 
the  brain  of  John  or  William.  They  were  ac- 
customed to  respect  their  father's  opinion,  and  to 
bow  to  his  authority.  Cheerfully,  therefore,  did 
they  go  to  work  to  fulfil  his  wishes.  As  might 
have  been  expected,  they  became  useful  charac- 
ters, and  bore  down  to  posterity  the  name  of 
their  honored  father,  who  chose  so  well  for  them 
when  they  were  incapable  of  choosing  for  them- 
selves. 

Whether  the  change  in  domestic  training 
which  has  gradually  come  about — so  different 
from  what  used  to  be,  so  much  more  lenient, 
deferring  so  much  more  to  the  child's  opinions 


YOUTH.  37 

and  wishes  —  is,  on  the  whole,  preferable  to  the 
more  rigid  discipline  of  a  past  age.  is  a  question 
not,  perhaps,  easy  to  be  answered.  Undoubtedly 
the  extremes  are  to  be  dreaded  and  avoided. 
But,  if  the  writer  were  to  express  an  opinion  on 
the  subject,  it  would  be  that  we  are  more  in 
danger,  at  the  present  time,  from  indulgence  and 
premature  culture,  than  we  are  from  a  too  stern 
and  rigid  discipline. 

Everything  in  the  institutions  of  our  country, 
in  the  progress  of  society,  in  the  open  field  of 
adventure,  tends  to  foster  a  daring  and  self- 
reliant  course.  If  the  writer  may  be  excused  for 
quoting  from  himself,  he  would  say,  in  this  con- 
nection, "Independence  is  a  word  which  exerts 
a  magical  influence  on  every  class  of  our  citizens. 
It  is  interwoven  with  our  national  history,  and  is 
the  watch-word  under  all  circumstances  of  public 
peril.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  then,  that  the 
youth  of  our  country  should  early  imbibe  a  dis- 
like to  all  kinds  of  restraint,  even  to  that  which 
both  God  and  nature  have  imposed  ?  And  is  it 
not  true,  that  in  this  country,  more  than  in  any 
4 


38  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

other  of  equal  standing,  the  young  are  prema- 
turely released  from  the  watchful  care  and 
wholesome  authority  of  the  parent?  If  these 
suggestions  are  well  founded,  then  is  there  need 
of  great  vigilance  on  the  part  of  parents,  in  order 
to  counteract  a  tendency  in  our  social  and  civil 
condition  unfavorable  to  domestic  government. 
The  child,  too,  should  remember  that  he  may 
gain  his  liberty  too  soon  for  his  own  good. 
The  price  of  this  premature  independence  may 
be,  not  simply  the  sighs  and  sorrows  of  a  pa- 
rent's heart,  but  the  disappointment  of  his  own 
expectations,  and  even  the  ultimate  ruin  of  his 
own  soul.  He  may  have  the  satisfaction  of 
anticipating,  by  a  few  years,  his  release  from 
parental  restraint ;  but,  like  the  unfledged  bird, 
which  has  ventured  too  soon  from  the  warm 
nest,  and,  finding  its  wings  incompetent  for  a 
self-sustained  flight,  sinks  neglected  to  the 
earth,  or  dies  beneath  the  peltings  of  the  storm, 
—  so,  ere  long,  may  he  bitterly  repent  his  pre- 
sumption, and  sigh  for  a  return  to  privileges 


YOUTH.  39 

which,  through  his  own  folly,  ho  has  forever 
forfeited."* 

The  truth  is  that  now-a-days  our  youth  are 
impatient  of  boyhood.  They  long  to  be  men  as 
soon  as  possible.  They  would  dress  like  men  ; 
and  not  unfrequently  are  they  found  copying  the 
vices  and  vulgarities  of  men. 

Such  being  the  tendencies  of  things,  it  cannot 
be  doubted  that  more  should  be  done  to  repress" 
such  preposterous  yearnings,  and,  if  possible,  con- 
vince the  young  aspirant  that  boys  should  be 
boys,  knowing  their  place,  and  cheerfully  sub- 
mitting to  parental  guidance. 

It  is.  moreover,  for  their  happiness,  as  well  as 
their  usefulness,  that  they  should  abide  their 
time.  In  what  period  of  life  is  there  crowded 
more  real  enjoyment  ?  Never  do  I  look  upon 
the  fine,  healthy  glow  of  youth,  but  I  feel  that  I 
am  contemplating  the  rarest  specimen  of  physi- 
cal happiness  that  God  has  presented  to  my 
view.  I  cannot  but  feel  a  conscious  regret,  that 
I  knew  not,  when  passing  that  halcyon  period, 

*  Sermon,  in  the  National  Preacher,  on  Filial  Duty. 


40  THE   VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

as  now  I  feel  I  ought  to  have  known,  the  day. 
BO  to  speak,  of  my  visitation.  Everything  then 
that  met  the  eye  was  beautiful.  The  choristers 
of  the  wood  sang  as  never  they  have  sung  since. 
The  air  never  went  with  such  vital  impulse  to 
the  lungs.  The  blood  coursed  gently  or  rushed 
wildly  along  its  channels ;  and  the  nerves,  as  they 
were  visited  by  the  soothing  influences  of  nature, 
made  JEolian  music  for  the  soul.  Food  was 
relished,  for  the  appetite  was  keen  ;  it  nourished, 
for  the  digestion  was  unimpaired.  Sleep  was  a 
sweet  oblivion,  rarely  broken  in  upon  but  by 
images  of  earthly  beauty.  Can  the  youth 
afford  to  forego  this  happy,  buoyant  period  of 
existence  ?  Should  he  wish  it  at  an  end  1 
But  how  absurd,  by  warring  against  nature,  to 
think  of  cheating  time  !  How  absurd  for  a 
youth  to  think  that  he  is  fit  for  the  occupations 
and  the  strife  of  mature  life,  whilst  yet  his 
muscle  has  not  hardened,  nor  the  beard  grown 
upon  his  chin  !  When  the  proper  time  comes, 
who  will  object  to  his  putting  out  upon  the  tide, 
and  taking  his  chance  with  others  ? 


YOUTH.  41 

But  self-reliance  comes  too  soon,  when  a  mere 
l>oy  asks  to  be  cut  loose  from  the  obligations  of 
fJiai  obedience  arid  deference  to  the  parent's 
judgment,  that  he  may  set  up  for  himself  on 
nothing  but  an  imaginary  capital ;  or,  like  the 
prodigal  in  Scripture,  to  go  out  laden  with  a 
portion  which  his  inexperience  and  his  vices  are 
sure,  ere  long,  to  dissipate  and  extinguish. 

In  these  remarks,  let  not  the  writer  be  under- 
stood as  laying  down  rules  for  all  cases,  and  all 
temperaments.  Some  of  the  young,  naturally 
diffident,  with  too  little  self-reliance,  leaning, 
perhaps,  too  much  on  parental  support,  may 
need  an  exactly  reverse  treatment.  It  may  be 
necessary  to  lead  them  out  of  that  shy  back- 
ground into  which  they  are  disposed  to  retreat, 
to  encourage  them  to  take  the  helm  and  steer  the 
boat  themselves.  The  views  which  have  been 
presented  bear,  we  apprehend,  upon  the  age 
generally,  and  apply  to  a  majority  of  those  who 
may  be  termed  "  the  RISING  generation." 
4* 


42  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

AMBITIOX. 

To  return  to  the  picture.  What  is  meant  by 
that  cloud-capped  tower  that  seems  to  be  hung 
on  some  airy  nothing  ?  The  youth  fixes  his  eye 
upon  it,  regardless  of  the  dangers  that  intervene. 
His  soul  is  full  of  lofty  aspirations.  He  has 
heard  of  those  who  have  steered  for  this  temple, 
and  reached  it ;  and  he  dimly  descries  their 
names  in  golden  letters  on  its  massive  columns. 
"Why  may  not  my  name  be  there  also?"  he 
exclaims.  "  Why  may  /  not  be  associated 
with  the  great  ones  who  have  preceded  me  ?  ;' 

Impelled  by  such  feelings,  he  pushes  forward 
on  the  stream,  where  a  thousand  equally  anxious 
and  ardent  spirits  are  struggling  in  the  same 
direction. 

There  is,  indeed,  something  apparently  noble, 
something  that  compels  our  admiration,  in  thia 
struggle  after  fame ;  especially  where  it  fires 
the  youthful  bosom,  and  nerves  him  to  efforts  and 
sacrifices  which  an  ordinary  or  feebler  impulse 
could  not  have  called  forth.  A  young  Napoleon, 
for  example,  dreaming  of  greatness  even  in  his 


YOUTH.  43 

boyhood,  shaping  all  his  studies  with  a  view  to 
its  acquirement,  mounting  every  step  that  seemed 
to  lead  to  it,  rushing  into  every  perilous  position 
that  looked  in  the  direction  of  it, —  how  can  we 
fail  to  be  interested  in  such  an  one,  or  to  sym- 
pathize in  the  daring  flights  of  such  a  mind  1 

What  he  thus  early  coveted,  he  at  length 
obtained.  The  shadow  which  he  pursued,  he  at 
a  very  early  period  in  life  overtook.  And  did 
he  not  find  it  a  shadow  1  On  the  highest  pin- 
nacle of  the  aerial  temple  he  sat,  and,  looking 
down  from  this  lofty,  almost  inapproachable 
height,  he  discovered  the  emptiness  of  this 
world's  honors,  and  the  uncertainty  of  all  its 
hopes  and  promises. 

Well,  then,  has  the  artist  placed,  the  temple  of 
fame  in  the  clouds,  and  given  it  a  sort  of 
shadowy  outline,  operating  strongly  on  the 
imagination  by  its  half-concealed  though  majes- 
tic proportions. 

Fame  is  a  powerful  but  bewildering  incentive  ; 
ambition,  a  deep-seated  but  thoroughly  selfish 
impulse.  He  who  struggles  in  this  race  thinks 


44  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

only,  or  principally,  of  himself.  Tlie  glory  of 
God  is  out  of  sight.  The  good  of  his  fellow-men, 
if  it  do  not  fall  in  with  his  own  aims, —  espec- 
ially if  it  stand  in  the  way  of  their  accomplish- 
ment,—  will  be  disregarded,  or  coldly  sacrificed. 

Yet  oftentimes,  mingling  with  ambition  and 
the  desire  for  fame,  will  be  traits  of  character 
which  go  far  to  make  us  think  ambition  a  venial 
principle,  and  to  extort,  if  not  justify,  the  wish 
that  he  who  is  so  deserving  of  elevation  may 
succeed  in  the  object  of  his  desires. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  fame  that  comes  unsought, 
which  follows  rather  than  allures,  where  the  in- 
dividual aimed  higher  even  than  the  cloud-capped 
temple,  and  found  himself  quite  unexpectedly 
in  the  possession  of  honors  of  which  he  had  never 
dreamed,  and  to  which  he  had  never  aspired. 
The  highest  earthly  immortality,  we  know,  has 
been  reached  by  many  who  never  sought  it.  but 
who  aimed  only  to  serve  God  and  their  fellow- 
men. 

But  fame,  as  ordinarily  understood,  leads  its 


YOUTII.  45 

votaries  into  a  rough,  vexatious,  and  often  fatal 
path. 

"  HENRY    KIEKE   WHITE." 

That  youthful  poet  and  eminent  scholar., 
Henry  Kirkc  White,  toiled  hard  for  fame.  His 
ambition  was,  that  his  name  might  not  be  for- 
gotten ;  that  among  the  claimants  for  earthly 
honors  he  might  be  recognized,  and  his  genius 
acknowledged.  It  was  this  that  made  him 
mournfully  inquire, 

"  Fifty  years  hence,  and  who  will  hear  of  Henry  ?  " 

Under  this  impulse,  he  sacrificed  health,  and 
even  life.  He  trimmed  the  midnight  lamp 
with  a  hand  tremulous  and  bony,  and  scanned 
the  classic  page  with  an  eye  almost  drowsy  in 
death.  Having  received,  according  to  his  aims, 
the  highest  honors  of  the  university,  he  ex- 
claimed, respecting  these  laurels,  which  he  had  so 
hardly  won,  and  which,  as  the  sequel  proved,  he 
was  so  soon  to  relinquish, 

"  What  are  ye  now, 
But  thorns  about  my  bleeding  brow  ?  *' 


46  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

In  sacrificing  health  to  fame,  however,  Henry 
Kirke  White  saw  his  error  in  time  to  reach  that 
higher,  purer  motive,  which  combines  Avith  feel- 
ings of  regret  and  sorrow  the  hopes  and  aspira- 
tions of  the  Christian. 

"HENRY  MARTYN." 

Another  Henry  toiled  in  the  same  path  of 
greatness,  but  with  an  eye  more  steadily  fixed  on 
a  higher  prize.  Martyn,  the  sainted  missionary, 
stood  relatively  in  the  grade  of  university  honors 
•where  Kirke  White  had  stood.  But  a  higher 
impulse  than  earthly  ambition  had  taken  pos- 
session of  him.  "  I  hear,"  said  he,  "  the  voice 
of  suffering  humanity  calling  from  the  dark 
places  of  the  earth  for  relief.  What  but  the 
gospel  can  afford  it?  I  hear,  at  the  same  time, 
the  voice  of  my  risen  Saviour,  saying,  '  Go  ye 
into  all  the  world,  and  preach  the  gospel  to  every 
creature  !  '  Shall  I  stay  at  home,  and  enjoy  the 
learned  leisure  of  a  fellowship  1  Shall  I  com- 
pose eloquent  sermons,  and  preach  them  in 
crowded  cathedrals  1  Or,  shall  I  lay  my  honors 


YOUTH.  47 

at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  and  consecrate  my  being  to 
the  enlightenment  of  pagan  nations  ?  " 

The  question  was  soon  settled :  and  Martyn's 
name  and  memory  are  embalmed  in  the  hearts  of 
thousands,  turned  "  from  darkness  to  light  "  by 
the  force  of  his  example,  and  the  labors  of  his 
short  but  consecrated  life. 


THE    CONTRAST. 


Napoleon  and  Henry  Martyn !  Behold  in 
one  the  soldier  of  ambition,  and  in  the  other  the 
soldier  of  the  cross  !  The  one  sacrifices  myriads 
to  obtain  imperial  honors  ;  the  other  sacrifices  his 
own  life  to  place  the  crown -immortal  upon  ran- 
somed pagans.  Napoleon  lives  in  the  praises  of 
his  countrymen,  in  the  glory  of  France,  in  the 
pleasing  consciousness  of  his  own  power.  These 
are  his  aliment,  as  they  were  his  impulse.  "When 
these  are  gone,  all  is  gone.  But  Martyn's  life 
is  found  in  God,  and  in  the  service  of  God; 
sources  which  never  can  fail,  a  fountain  of  felicity 
which  never  can  run  dry. 

Who  would  not  prefer  to  follow  the  footsteps 


48  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

of  the  youthful  missionary  over  burning  plains, 
and  through  benighted  cities,  with  the  lamp  of 
life  and  salvation  in  his  hand,  than  to  mingle  in 
the  stormy  career  of  the  conqueror,  with  the 
wheels  of  his  chariot  dripping  in  gore,  and  his 
ears  saluted  alternately  with  the  praises  and  the 
maledictions  of  mankind  ? 

THE   TRUE   AMBITION*. 

There  is  a  loftier  structure,  let  me  say  to  the 
youthful  aspirant  embarking  on  the  rough 
waters  of  strife,  than  the  one  faintly  imaged  in 
yonder  clouds.  There  is  a  temple  of  God, 
adorned  with  moral  beauty  and  grandeur,  such 
as  pearls  and  gems  and  rainbow  tints  can  but 
faintly  symbolize.  Let  thy  ambition  fix  on  this 
bright  abode !  Be  all  thy  energies  enlisted  in 
reaching  it !  There  is  a  field  of  enterprise,  too, 
here  below,  where  the  highest  intellect  may  find 
scope,  and  the  purest  benevolence  be  exercised. 
It  is  found  in  turning  men  to  righteousness. 
They  who  labor  successfully  in  this  field  shall 
not  only  have  a  calm  satisfaction  in  the  work, 


YOUTH.  49 

but  shall  shine  at  last  "  as  the  stars  for  ever  and 
ever." 

Withdraw  thy  eye,  then,  from  that  cloud- 
capped  tower ;  or,  rather,  lift  it  far  higher,  to  the 
New  Jerusalem,  clothed  in  the  sunlight  of  heaven, 
with  its  white-robed  inhabitants,  its  scenery  of 
undying  loveliness ;  —  rise  to  this  altitude  of 
glory,  and  say, 

"  The  golden  palace  of  my  God 
Towering  above  the  clouds  I  see  ; 
Beyond,  the  cherubs'  bright  abode, 
Higher  than  angels'  thoughts  can  be. 
How  can  I  in  those  courts  appear 
Without  a  wedding  garment  on  ? 
Conduct  me,  thou  Life-giver,  there  ; 
Conduct  me  to  thy  glorious  throne, 
And  clothe  me  with  thy  robes  of  light, 
And  lead  me  through  sin's  darksome  night, 
My  Saviour  and  my  God  '  " 

5 


CHAPTER    III. 

PERILS    OF   YOUTH. 

ONE  thing  strikes  the  beholder,  as  he  gazes  on 
the  principal  figure,  with  eye  intent  on  the 
shadowy  dome,  namely,  an  apparent  disregard 
of  the  perils  to  which  he  is  exposed  in  so  frail 
a  bark,  and  on  a  stream,  so  rough  and  rock- 
indented.  The  light  shallop  rushes  on  with  ever- 
accelerating  speed,  the  waters  growing  more 
dark  and  turbid,  and  the  skies  in  the  distance 
putting  on  portentous  shapes  and  colors. 

In  this  the  •  artist  has  depicted  the  reckless- 
ness of  youth,  unapprizcd  of  what  is  before  him  ; 
or,  if  not  entirely  ignorant,  at  least  strong  in  his 
self-reliance,  confident  that  he  will  be  able  to 
sustain  any  shock  which  may  be  made  upon  him. 

How  true  a  picture  is  this  of  the  young 
voyager  on  the  actual  stream  of  life  !  With 
what  a  bold  and  self-confident  hand  he  seizes 


PERILS    OF   YOUTH.  51 

the  helm,  and  takes  his  chance  on  the  perilous 
flood  ! 

Whilst  we  would  not  wish  to  cast  a,  single 
shadow  over  the  bright  prospect  which  a  san- 
guine and  youthful  imagination  may  have 
sketched,  nor  conclude  that,  because  '  many 
have  made  shipwreck,  all  that  come  after  them 
will  inevitably  do  the  same,  still  must  we  be 
allowed  to  suggest,  as  the  artist  himself  has 
done,  that  it  would  be  well  for  this  inexperienced 
navigator  to  observe  the  perils  which  are  before 
him,  and  so  to  direct  his  course  as,  if  possible,  to 
avoid  them. 

The  two  great  impulses  by  which  young  men 
are  ordinarily  swayed,  are  the  love  of  pleasure 
and  the  love  of  gain.  The  latter,  with  young 
men,  resolves  itself  into  the  former,  as  means  to 
an  end;  but  the  former  — the  love  of  pleasure, 
the  mere  selfish  desire  of  enjoyment  — is  the  more 
powerful,  more  constantly  operative,  and  almost 
universally  prevalent.  "Who  will  show  us  any 
good  ?  "  is  the  earliest,  the  most  continued,  and 
the  most  clamorous  inquiry. 


52  THE   VOYAGE   OF   LIFE. 

THE    PLEASURIST   AND    IDLER. 

That  fairy-like  vessel,  with  the  winged  hours 
sculptured  on  its  sides,  gliding  between  banks 
of  flowers,  and  under  skies  of  Italian  softness, 
is  but  an  emblematical  representation  of  the 
dreamy  idleness  and  self-indulgence  which  char- 
acterize too  many  just  entering  upon  manhood. 

Easy  enough  it  is  to  float  upon  the  tide  of 
circumstances,  to  dream  of  greatness  without 
making  any  efforts  to  attain  to  it ;  to  indulge  in 
revery  and  sloth ;  to  lie  down  in  the  boat  and  go 
to  sleep,  not  caring  what  may  happen  to  it,  or 
whither  it  may  drive. 

Some  young  men  are  just  of  this  character, 
pleasurists,  idlers.  They  are  the  sons  ordina- 
rily of  rich  men.  Some  defect,  far  back  in  their 
education,  has  occurred.  Something  went  wrong 
at  the  beginning  of  the  voyage,  and  has  gone 
wrong  ever  since.  How  much,  latterly,  a 
knowledge  of  their  father's  wealth  has  had  to  do 
in  forming  their  character  to  this  supine  and 
indolent  type,  we  cannot  say ;  but  doubtless  it 
has  exerted  its  influence.  But  there  they  are, 


PERILS    OF   YOUTH.  53 

the  living  drones  in  a  world  where  every  energy 
should  be  tasked,  arid  every  moment  employed. 

They  live  on  fare  which  their  fathers'  hands, 
and  not  theirs,  have  earned ;  and  sleep  on  beds 
which  their  fathers'  sweat  and  toil  have  pur- 
chased. They  go  in  and  out,  choosing  their  own 
hours,  regardless- of  the  order  established  in  the 
family ;  and  with  as  independent  a  swagger  as 
if  the  whole  premises  were  theirs,  and  all  its  con- 
veniences were  arranged  for  their  special  benefit. 
They  have  no  particular  respect  for  their  parents ; 
and  no  affection,  or  next  to  none,  for  any 
member  of  the  household.  Every  thought  of 
theirs  seems  to  be  concentrated  upon  themselves. 
The  care  that  presses  heaviest  is,  how  they  shall 
get  rid  of  time,  or  what  new  variety  of  pleasure 
they  shall  pursue. 

Their  dress  is  scrupulously  fashionable;  but 
•who  pays  the  tailor's  bill?  Their  manners, 
partaking  of  a  haughty  but  languidly  sensual  air, 
leave  one  in  doubt  whether  in  their  constitution 
there  be  more  of  the  animal  called  the  sloth  or 
of  the  bird  known  as  the  peacock 
5* 


54  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

Miserable  excrescences  these,  on  the  face  of 
society !  How  little  hope  is  there  that  they  will 
ever  be  reclaimed  to  industry,  to  virtue,  to  use- 
fulness ! 

Everybody  seems  to  despise  them;  that  is, 
everybody  whose  opinion  is  worth  quoting. 
"What  is  the  fellow  about?''  says  one;  ''he 
seems  to  know  nothing,  to  do  nothing,  to  be 
nothing."  "  Why  is  he  not  brought  up  to  some 
useful  occupation  ?  what  can  his  father  intend  to 
make  of  him  ?  "  The  rough  artisan  brushes  by 
him  with  a  scornful  glance,  wondering  why  he 
must  labor  for  his  bread,  and  this  walking  non- 
entity, this  statue  of  silk  and  broadcloth,  parade 
the  streets  in  idleness  ! 

All  are  at  work. —  the  merchant,  the  mechanic, 
the  professional  man,  all  are  at  it,  toiling  for  an 
honest  livelihood,  contributing  their  portion  to 
the  healthful  stock  of  labor. —  whilst  this  idler 
saunters  about  and  looks  on,  as  if  he  had  neither 
part  nor  lot  in  the  matter. 

But  what  shall  be  done,  in  his  case  1  The 
only  answer  we  can  think  of,  after  expostulation 


PERILS    OF   YOUTH.  55 

and  counsel  have  been  tried  in  vain,  is  to  cut  off 
his  supplies.  Give  him  to  understand  that  he  is, 
at  least,  to  earn  his  own  clothing.  In  fact, 
according  to  the  Bible,  he  ought  to  earn  his  food, 
as  well  as  his  clothing ;  ' '  for  he  that  will  not 
work,"  says  that  high  authority,  "  shall  not  eat." 
The  community  has  no  room  for  such  idlers. 

Let  every  young  man  do  something;  some- 
thing that  will  tend  to  his  own  support,  or  to  the 
general  weal.  Be  he  ever  so  rich  in  prospect, 
he  is  never  rich  enough  to  be  an  idler.  If  he 
were  an  English  lord,  with  an  inheritance  of 
millions,  he  should  cultivate  habits  of  industry ; 
he  should  do  something  to  develop  his  own  ener- 
gies, and  strive  also  to  benefit  his  fellow-men. 

Herein,  I  think,  the  artist,  whose  beautiful 
picture  is  suggestive  of  these  remarks,  has  failed ; 
or,  rather,  I  should  say,  has  not  been  able  to 
include  in  the  second  picture  certain  moral 
dangers  to  which  the  young  are  especially  ex- 
posed. He  presents  the  youth  to  us  as  absorbed 
wholly  in  the  idea  of  fame.  But,  where  ono 


56  THE    VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

thinks  of  fame,  there  are  thousands  who   care 
only  for  pleasure  and  relaxation. 

TEMPTATIONS    TO    VICE. 

Indolence  we  have  described  as  the  besetting 
sin  of  some.  The  reader  may  not,  perhaps, 
recognize  the  portrait  which  we  have  drawn  ss  a 
likeness  of  himself.  He  may  not  have  become 
such  a  useless  drone.  Nevertheless,  he  may  find 
that  his  greatest  obstruction  in  the  path  of  im- 
provement is  a  habit  of  indolence.  What  is  dif- 
ficult, what  will  cost  labor,  what  will  task  his 
utmost  efforts,  he  may  not  love  to  encounter. 
And  yet,  all  the  good,  and  the  wise,  and  the  suc- 
cessful, have  thus  toiled,  in  order  to  reach  the 
elevation  on  which  they  stand. 

But  many  are  vicious  who  cannot  be  called 
idlers.  They  plead  for  sensual  indulgence, 
under  the  idea  of  necessary  relaxation  from  severe 
toil.  "  We  must  play,  as  well  as  work,"  say 
they;  "we  cannot  be  always  at  it.;' 

Who  would  deny  the  reasonableness  of  this 
plea?  And,  if  the  relaxation  were  sought  in 


PERILS    OF   YOUTH.  57 

things  right  and  innocent,  -who  would  object? 
Nature  herself  demands  that  amusement  and 
relaxation  should  be  intermingled  with  labor. 
But,  to  resort  to  vicious  haunts,  to  mix  with  the 
idle  and  the  dissolute,  and  call  such  pleasures 
needful  relaxation,  is  to  abuse  both  our  health 
and  our  reason. 

How  many  moral  dangers  beset  the  young 
'  man's  way  !  Along  the  stream  down  which  he 
carelessly  glides,  and  on  either  bank  of  it,  is 
many  a  cove  or  inlet,  into  which  the  young 
voyager  is  invited,  where  he  may  moor  his  bark, 
indulge  a  drowsy  hour,  and  take  his  fill  of 
pleasure.  Siren  voices  are  heard,  so  alluring, 
so  enchanting,  that  he  cannot  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  pause  and  listen,  to  their  melody.  The 
beauties  of  Eden  could  scarcely  have  been  more 
tempting  in  appearance  than  are  some  of  the 
bowers  of  pleasure  into  which  he  is  drawn.  But, 
like  that  Eden,  there  is  concealed  there  a  dark, 
designing  spirit,  who,  in  proffering  the  sweets, 
•whispers,  "  Ye  shall  not  surely  die." 


58  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 


Our  cities  are  full  of  amusements  addressed  to 
the  passions  and  sinful  propensities  of  the  young. 
A  gorgeous  scene  will  be  got  up.  in  order  to  strike 
the  eye,  or  .to  awaken  the  curiosity.  Artistic 
decorations  the  most  beautiful  will  solicit  the 
attention.  The  daughters  of  music  will  be 
enlisted,  and  strains  of  the  sweetest  melody  will 
be  made  to  float  out  from  the  interior  of  splen- 
didly furnished  apartments.  All  this,  attracting 
the  eye  and  saluting  the  ear,  will  seem  to  say, 
"Come  in  and  share  in  the  gayety  and  gladness 
of  the  scene."  0,  how  many  out-signals  are 
hung  around  the  porches  of  vice,  intended  to 
strike  the  eye  of  the  young  man,  and  to  allure 
his  feet  into  the  haunts  of  infamy  and  of  death  ! 

"What  do  these  lights  mean?"  said  an  ingenu- 
ous youth  to  his  parent,  as  they  came  unexpect- 
edly upon  a  brilliant  display  of  lamps  and  gas- 
light. The  father  heaved  a  sigh,  thinking  that 
possibly  his  own  dear  son  might  one  day  know, 
from  sad  experience,  what  they  meant.  "They 


PERILS    OF    YOUTH.  59 


mean,  my  dear  boy,  that  within  that  open  door, 
where  you  see  young  men  passing  in  and  out, 
are  scenes  of  idleness  and  dissipation,  such  as 
blast  the  character,  undermine  the  health,  and 
endanger  the  soul.  Conviviality  is  there  the 
great  attraction.  There  the  inebriating  cup  is 
mixed,  and  presented  under  its  most  seductive 
forms.  Drinking,  and  smoking,  and  even 
gambling,  are  practised.  Rapidly  in  this  school 
of  vice  are  young  men  graduated,  until,  after  a 
short  career,  they  are  found  outcasts  from  all 
decent  society;  and  they  are  very  apt  to  end 
their  days  as  vagabonds  in  the  streets,  or  as 
felons  in  the  cells  of  a  prison.  Steer  clear  of 
those  gorgeous  lights!  Behind  them  are  the 
rocks  and  the  quicksands  on  which  many  an 
unsuspecting  youth  has  been  stranded.  They 
are  the  temples  of  Bacchus,  where  mirth  and 
wine  are  sought  and  enjoyed,  but  where  charac- 
ter is  sacrificed,  and  all  virtuous  sentiment  ex- 
tinguished. He  who  enters  into  them  may 
think  that  he  treads  on  "enchanted  ground ;  but 
the  spell-bound  victim  must  pay  for  his  fascination 


60  THE   VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 

in  regrets  that  are  unavailing,  and  in  a  remorse 
like  that  of  the  undying  worm." 

Other  dangers  lie  along  the  stream  of  life 
threatening  the  frail  vessel,  and  exposing  the 
young  voyager  to  moral  shipwreck. 

ANIMAL    PASSIONS. 

His  animal  passions,  developing  in  the  now 
matured  body  with  a  force  that  seems  almost 
irresistible,  tempt  the  youth  sometimes  to  play 
the  brute,  and  lose  sight  of  the  rational  and 
immortal  nature. 

Secret  vice  is  sometimes  resorted  to,  and  lays 
the  foundation  for  more  open  and  flagitious 
wickedness,  whilst  it  leads  directly  to  imbecility 
of  body  and  of  mind.  How  many  have  made 
shipwreck  here  !  To  quote  the  language  of  one, 
whose  long  experience  and  high  standing  in  the 
medical  profession  authorizes  him  to  speak  with 
emphasis  on  this  subject, — "  The  deleterious, 
the  sometimes  appalling  consequences  of  this  vice, 
upon  the  health,  the  constitution,  the  mind  itself, 
are  some  of  the  common  matters  of  medical  ob- 


PERILS    OF    YOUTH.  Gl 

servation.  The  victims  of  it  should  know  what 
these  consequences  are ;  for  to  be  acquainted 
•with  the  tremendous  evils  it  entails  may  assist 
them  in  the  work  of  resistance."  "  The  bodily 
powers  become  completely  prostrated  :  the 
memory  and  the  whole  mind  partake  in  the  ruin, 
and  idiocy  or  insanity  in  their  most  intractable 
forms  close  the  train  of  evils."  * 

Of  this  class  of  vices,  who  does  not  know  that 
indulgence  strengthens  desire ;  and  that  one  step 
in  this  fearful  direction  is  apt  to  be  succeeded  by 
another,  until  that  threshold  is  reached  from 
\vhich,  as  from  the  house  of  the  dead,  there 
seems  to  be  almost  no  hope  of  return !  This 
whirlpool  lies  hard  by  the  gorgeous  saloon  and 
the  brilliantly  lighted  theatre.  These  latter  are 
as  the  rapids  tending  to  THAT,  as  the  awful 
cataract. 

In  the  voyage  of  life,  who  could  undertake  to 
say  how  many  of  the  young  have  been  lost  in  one 
or  the  other  of  these  passages  to  death  ?  If  their 

*  Dr.  Ware  on  the  "  Relation  of  the  Sexes." 
6 


62  THE   VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

history,  gathered  from  theatres,  saloons  and 
brothels,  could  be  presented,  in  all  its  moral 
deformity,  with  all  the  premature  and  remorseful 
deaths,  all  the  broken  hearts  of  parents,  and  the 
deep  mortification  of  relatives  and  friends,  it 
would  be  such  a  revelation  of  vice  and  its  fearful 
penalties  as  would  startle,  and  even 'horrify,  the 
community. 

But  these  things  are  not  known.  A  veil  is 
thrown  over  these  dark  porticoes  of  ruin.  The 
cry  of  the  lost  is  smothered,  lest  it  should  alarm 
those  who  are  in  the  same  downward  course. 
One  by  one,  the  bloated  corpses  are  carried  out, 
and  with  great  secrecy  consigned  to  ignoble 
graves. 

What  multitudes  are  at  this  moment  on  this 
dark  flood,  or  tending  towards  it. —  multitudes  of 
young  men,  who  have  talents  that  might  adorn 
their  country's  annals,  and  energies  which,  if 
properly  developed  and.  directed,  might  place 
them  high  in  the  esteem  of  their  fellow-men; 
but  who,  alas  !  like  Esau,  are  bartering  and 


PERILS    OF   YOUTH.  63 

sacrificing  this  noble  birth-right  for  what  is  no 

o  o 

better  than  '•'  a  mess  of  pottage  "  ! 

If  any  such  shall  chance  to  read  these  pages, 
let  me  say  to  thee  that  life  is  too  solemn  a  trust 
to  be  thus  sacrificed  to  sensual  and  selfish  pur- 
suits. Be  a  man,  then,  and  despise  these 
grovelling  pleasures  !  Have  decision,  and  say  to 
the  tempter,  coining  in  what  guise  he  may, 
"  No,  I  am  pledged  to  a  virtuous  life.  I  will 
not  even  touch  the  fatal  cup.  nor  take  one  step 
towards  the  dark  pathway  of  vice.  I  will  walk 
with  the  wise ;  I  will  not  be  a  companion  of 
fools."  Above  all,  conscious  of  thy  own  weak- 
ness to  resist  temptation,  ask  help  of  God,  trust 
in  the  protection  of  God ;  for  be  assured  that,  if 
"  in  all  our  ways  we  acknowledge  him,  he  will 
direct  our  paths." 


INNOCENT    PLEASURES. 


Proscribing,  as  in  duty  bound,  those  pleasures 
which  allure  only  to  deceive  and  to  destroy,  such 
as  are  found  in  indolence,  intemperance,  and 
Bensual  indulgence,  let  me  not  be  understood  as 


64  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

objecting  to  those  which  are  innocent  and  health- 
ful. 

The  manly  sports  which  develop  the  muscles, 

—  naturally  so  much  relished  and  practised  by  the 
young, — which  promote  a  social  rivalry,  innocent, 
though  exciting,  are  open  to  all.  and  may  be 
enjoyed  by  all. 

Society,  as  where  the  sexes  meet  and  mingle 
under  such  restraint  as  modesty  would  impose, 
and  with  such  motives  as  virtue  would  sanction. 

—  the  evening  party,  the  excursion,  the  domicil- 
iary visit, —  has  in  it  not  only  a  safe  but  a  salu- 
tary enjoyment. 

Institutions  of  a  literary  or  artistical  char- 
acter, as  libraries  and  cabinets  of  natural 
curiosities,  may  also  be  resorted  to  for  amuse- 
ment and  relaxation,  as  Avell  as  for  instruction. 

Other  sources  of  pleasant  recreation,  such  as 
music  and  painting,  the  study  of  natural  history, 
tours  in  foreign  countries  or  in  one's  own  coun- 
try, each  or  all,  may  be  more  or  less  a  means  of 
pleasurable  relaxation,  according  to  the  taste,  the 


,  PERILS    OF    YOUTH.  65 

pecuniary  ability,  and  the  opportunities  which 
Providence  may  have  furnished. 

If  young  men  have  low  and  beastly  propen- 
sities, they  will  not  be  very  likely  to  appreciate 
these  more  refined  sources  of  enjoyment.  Some 
will  be  brutes,  in  spite  of  all  you  can  do  for  them. 
"  Like  brutes  they  live,  like  brutes  they  die." 

But  the  majority  of  young  men  are  not  such  ; 
they  need  not  be  such.  And  our  aim  is  not 
only  to  call  their  attention  to  the  dangers  which 
everywhere  surround  them,  and  so  put  them 
upon  their  guard,  but  also  to  persuade  them  to 
choose  those  purer  pleasures  which  improve  the 
mind,  preserve  the  health,  and  which  leave  no 
sting  behind. 

If  such  pleasures  be  resorted  to,  and  such  a 
course  as  we  have  recommended  be  pursued,  we 
may  confidently  predict  that  the  stream  of  life 
will  flow  smoothly,  and  that  a  virtuous  youth 
will  be  merged  into  a  dignified  and  useful  man- 
hood. The  body  will  expand  into  strong  and 
symmetrical  proportions;  the  mind  will  be  fur- 
nished with  well-digested  knowledge,  iuitL  tlio 
G* 


66  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

heart  will  be  kept  in  a  great  measure  from  the 
dark  and  polluting  images  of  vice. 

Such  a  course  may  not  only  lead  to  respecta- 
bility and  influence,  but  may  even  be  crowned  by 
the  higher  blessings  of  true  piety.  Morality,  we 
know,  is  not  religion ;  yet  not  seldom  is  it  the 
proximate  road  to  it.  It  leads  into  its  neighbor- 
hood. It  places  one  in  closer  connection  with  its 
institutions,  and  gives  promise  that  a  candid 
attention,  at  least,  will  be  given  to  its  claims. 

The  stream  of  time  ever  sets  in  the  direction 
of  eternity.  The  light  shallop  which  floats  upon 
it,  and  in  which  so  precious  a  cargo  is  em- 
barked, should  point  its  prow  in  the  direction  of 
that  harbor  where  no  storms  or  tempests  can  ever 
come.  Then,  with  this  "haven  of  rest"  in 
view,  should  a  sudden  blast  from  the  wings  of 
death  fall  upon  thee,  that  kind  angel  who  started 
with  thee  at  the  outset  of  the  voyage  will  appear, 
and  furnish  thee  with  a  safe  escort  over  the  dark 
and  dismal  flood. 

Take  with  thee,  on  thy  brief  voyage,  young 
adventurer,  the  anchor  which  is  "  sure  and  stead- 


PERILS   OF   YOUTH.  67 

fadt ;"  the  chart  which  maps  out  the  dangers; 
the  proffered  pilot,  who  promises  to  guide  by  his 
counsel  all  such  as  commit  themselves  to  his  care; 
and  then,  if  thy  voyage  be  ended  ere  manhood  is 
attained,  it  "will  leave  no  regrets  for  its  early 
termination,  whilst  before  thee  will  be  the  pros- 
pect of  a  glorious  immortality. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

MANHOOD. 

As  from  childhood  to  youth,  so  from  youth  to 
manhood,  the  step  is  quickly  taken.  But  it  is 
sailing,  if  we  may  so  say,  out  of  smooth  into 
troubled  waters.  This  the  artist,  in  his  third 
pictorial  representation,  has  given  us  to  under- 
stand. 

To  quote  his  OAvn  language,  as  descriptive  of 
the  scene, — "  Storm  and  cloud  enshroud  a 
rugged  and  dreary  landscape.  Bare  impending 
precipices  rise  in  the  lurid  light.  The  swollen 
stream  rushes  furjously  down  a  dark  ravine, 
whirling  and  foaming  in  its  dark  career,  and 
speeding  towards  the  ocean,  which  is  dimly  seen 
through  the  mist  and  falling  rain.  The  boat  is 
there  plunging  amid  the  turbulent  waters.  The 
voyager  is  now  a  man  of  middle  age.  The  helm 
of  the  boat  is  gone,  and  he  looks  imploringly 


MANHOOD.  69 


towards  heaven,  as  if  heaven's  aid  alone  could 
save  him  from  the  perils  that  surround  him. 
The  guardian  spirit  calmly  sits  in  the  clouds, 
watching  with  an  air  of  solicitude  the  affrighted 
voyager.  Demon  forms  are  hovering  in  the 
air. 

"  Trouble  is  characteristic  of  the  period  of  man- 
hood. In  childhood  there  is  no  cankering  care, 
in  youth  no  despairing  thought.  It  is  only  when 
experience  has  taught  us  the  realities  of  the 
world  that  we  lift  from  our  eyes  the  golden  veil 
of  early  life,  that  we  find  deep  and  abiding 
sorrow.  And,  in  the  picture,  the  gloomy, 
eclipse-like  tone,  the  conflicting  elements,  the 
trees  riven  by  the  tempest,  are  the  allegory  ;  and 
the  ocean,  dimly  seen,  figures  the  end  of  life  to 
which  the  voyager  is  now  approaching.  The 
demon  forms  are  suicide,  intemperance  and 
murder,  which  are  the  temptations  that  beset 
men  in  their  direst  troubles.  The  upward  and 
imploring  look  of  the  voyager  shows  his  depend- 
ence on  a  superior  power,  and  that  faith  saves 
him  from  a  destruction  which  seems  inevitable." 


70  THE   VOYAGE   OF   LIFE. 

This  representation,  it  must  be  confessed, 
wears  an  aspect  of  gloom  and  despondency.  The 
shades  are  quite  as  dark  as  the  reality  will 
justify.  That  manhood  is  thus,  in  many  in- 
stances, characterized  by  care,  anxiety,  peril  and 
temptation,  is  readily  admitted.  Perhaps,  in  a 
majority  of  cases,  the  picture  gives  but  a  just 
reflection  of  the  struggles  and  dangers  which 
ordinarily  are  to  be  encountered.  But  there  are 
cases,  we  hope  not  a  few,  where  a  richer  sun- 
light might  have  been  shed  upon  the  scene ;  a 
calmer  surface  might  have  been  exhibited,  and  a 
sky  not  so  darkened  and  deformed  by  those 

•/  V 

hideous  figures  have  been  made  to  hang  over  it. 
Is  not  manhood  sometimes  marked  even  by  an 
uninterrupted  flow  of  prosperity  1 

But  the  artist,  after  all,  has  taken  life  as  it  is, 
as  in  most  cases  it  is  realized;  wherein  the 
struggle  and  the  effort  are  attended  with  uncer- 
tainty, and  cares  and  apprehensions  outweigh  the 
hours  of  comparative  ease  and  tranquillity. 

That  the  stream  roughens  in  middle  life  no 
one  can  deny;  that  the  skies  are,  at  times, 


MANHOOD.  71 


lowering,  even  fearfully  portentous,  all  must 
admit ;  that  difficulties  are  to  be  met  and  over- 
come, that  dangers  are  to  be  encountered, 
requiring  skill  and  forethought,  in  order  to  their 
avoidance,  is  clear  to  all  \vho  have  passed  into 
the  activities  and  responsibilities  of  manhood. 


EARLY    MANHOOD. 


"Who  can  forget  that  hour  when  the  idea  first 
took  possession  of  him,  "  I  am  a  man.  I  am  no 
more  a  boy.  I  must  now  think  for  myself,  and 
act  for  myself,  and  must  take  upon  me  the 
responsibility  which  such  thought  and  action 
involve.  Life  is  before  me,  not  as  a  lake  with 
mirror-like  surface,  calm  and  bright,  reflecting 
only  pictured  clouds  and  overshadowing  verdure, 
where  I  may  listlessly  float,  and  please  myself  with 
the  mystic  sounds  which  echo  along  its  shores. 
No !  but  as  a  turbid  and  swollen  tide,  on  which  I 
have  launched,  with  whirlpools  and  eddies  and 
rapids  all  around  me,  requiring  a  vigilant  eye,  a 
strong  arm,  and  a  cool  judgment,  in  order  to 
steer  my  course  safely  and  prosperously." 


72  THE   VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

Who  can  forget  when  care  and  anxiety  began 
to  press  upon  the  heart,  and  the  question  as  to 
ultimate  success  in  life  would  too  often  recur, 
with  no  possibility  of  a  satisfactory  answer  ? 

Nor  is  manhood,  in  general,  a  solitary  strug- 
gle, having  respect  only  to  the  happiness  of  a 
single  bosom,  or  to  the  required  supplies  of  a 
single  individual.  Were  this  the  case,  the  trials 
would  be  less  painful,  whilst  the  motives  to  ex- 
ertion would  be  far  less  influential..  Providence  has 
so  ordered  it — wisely,  no  doubt  —  that  manhood 
should  shoulder  the  responsibilities  of  the  domes- 
tic state,  should  live  and  labor  and  struggle  for 
the  good  of  those  who  naturally  look  to  him  for 
support  and  comfort.  This  gives  life  its  charm, 
as  well  as  its  motive.  It  rouses  and  sustains 
energies  which  otherwise  had  never  been  put 
forth,  and  makes  success  doubly  grateful,  as 
being  shared  by  a  circle  of  endeared  and  depend- 
ent relatives. 

Shall  we  not  sympathize  in  the  struggles  of 
manhood  ?  It  is  the  period  when  human  life  is 
at  its  zenith ;  when  the  stoutest  hearts  are  beat- 


MANHOOD.  73 


ing,  the  sturdiest  arms  are  bared,  and  the  noblest 
achievements  are  projected  and  accomplished. 
Our  streets  are  filled  with  manhood.  So  are  our 
work-shops  and  our  stores.  In  every  business 
scene,  every  scene  where  strength  of  muscle  and 
strength  of  mind  are  required,  where  the  anvil  is 
to  be  smitten  or  the  anchor  to  be  weighed,  where 
the  perplexities  of  trade  are  to  be  solved  or  the 
professional  duty  discharged,  there  is  manhood, 
putting  forth  its  might  in  a  thousand  useful 
occupations. 

The  young  are  in  their  training  places  and  the 
old  are  in  their  easy-chairs,  or  resting  by  the 
way-side.  But  mark  that  tide  of  mortals  that 
sets  along  the  busy  street !  You  will  say,  in 
view  of  it,  that  life  is  sustained  in  all  its  strength 
—  in  all  its  great  interests  —  by  manhood.  Let 
us  sympathize  with  it.  Let  us  encourage  it. 
Let  us  cheer  it  on  in  the  great  and  arduous 
struggle.  Let  us  also  survey  its  trials,  its  tempt- 
ations, its  perils,  and  inquire  what  are  the  best 
means  of  sustaining  and  guiding  its  energies  to  a 
successful  issue. 
7 


74  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

CHOICE    OF    BUSINESS. 

A  very  important  inquiry  in  the  business  of 
life,  which  every  man  should  institute,  is, 
•whether  his  occupation,  present  or  prospective, 
be  lawful  and  honorable. 

Something,  of  course,  must  be  done  for  a 
livelihood.  Some  business  or  profession  must  be 
selected  and  prosecuted,  in  order  to  support  a 
family,  or  to  reach  a  condition  of  competency  or 
affluence.  The  choice  is  sometimes  involuntary ; 
but  more  generally  the  individual  is  led  to  it  by 
his  own  taste  and  preference,  or  by  its  supposed 
availableness,  in  accumulating  wealth.  In  what- 
ever way  it  may  have  been  chosen,  a  question  of 
practical  morality  ought  to  be  settled  respecting 
it,  namely,  whether  it  be  lawful  and  honorable. 

There  are  certain  occupations  so  palpably  bad, 
so  visibly  wrong  and  of  wrong  tendency,  that  no 
man  who  covets  peace  of  conscience,  or  who  has 
a  regard  for  his  reputation,  would  be  found 
engaged  therein. 

There  are  some  kinds  of  business,  which,  by 
common  consent  of  all  the  good,  are  regarded  as 


MANHOOD.  75 


unlawful,  and  therefore  dishonorable.  No  wealth 
which  could  be  accumulated,  though  vast  as  that 
of  Croesus,  could  varnish  a  character  into  respect- 
ability who  should  at  this  day  be  engaged  in  the 
slave-trade. 

The  same  may  be  said,  to  a  considerable  ex- 
tent, of  wealth  accumulated  in  the  manufacture 
or  sale  of  ardent  spirits.  The  evils  are  so  great, 
moral,  physical,  social,  economical, —  every  way 
so  great, —  they  are  so  palpable,  so  direct,  they 
fall  in  such  disgusting  notoriety  under  our  every- 
day observation,  that  a  business  which  thrives 
by  these  woes  and  vices,  by  such  infamy,  degra- 
dation and  ruin,  is,  if  we  may  make  a  compari- 
son between  two  such  odious  occupations,  of 
•worse  tendency  even  than  the  slave-trade.  No 
wealth  that  comes  from  such  a  source,  it  seems 
to  me,  can  have  on  it  anything  but  the  signature 
of  God's  deep  displeasure.  No  man  should  select 
such  an  occupation ;  or,  finding  himself  in  it,  no 
man  should  continue  therein  any  longer  than  it 
will  take  him  to  wind  up  his  affairs,  and,  at  any 
sacrifice,  betake  himself  to  something  that  is  law- 


76  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

ful  and  honorable.  lie  should  not  leave  upon 
his  posterity  the  stigma  that  their  bread  was 
taken  from  the  mouths  of  orphans,  rendered  such 
by  a  father's  cold-hearted  avarice,  or  that  their 
grandeur  was  purchased  by  the  death-groans  of 
the  impoverished  and  the  inebriate. 

Other  occupations  might  be  named,  if  not  so 
palpably  wrong,  yet  of  wrong  tendency,  involving 
a  sacrifice  of  moral  principle  bordering  on  dis- 
honesty, pandering  to  vice,  or  profaning  the 
Sabbath,  all  of  which  should  be  avoided,  what- 
ever may  be  the  gains,  or  whatever  apology  for 
their  continuance  necessity  even  might  bring 
forward. 

A  business,  of  whatever  kind,  which  weakens 
moral  principle,  which  must  be  driven  at  the  ex- 
pense of  conscience,  or  to  the  injury  of  others, — 
such  a  business  should  not  be  chosen,  or,  having 
been  chosen,  should,  as  soon  as  possible,  be 
abandoned. 

The  stream  of  life  is  rough  enough,  at  best ; 
the  trials  of  the  spirit  are  hard  enough  to  bear, 
even  when  experienced  in  the  prosecution  of  a 


MANHOOD.  77 


calling  that  is  honorable ;  but  rougher  still 
be  the  tide  "with  him  who,  in  defiance  of  con- 
science, and  under  the  withering  scorn  and  pity 
and  contempt  of  the  humane  and  virtuous, 
undertakes  to  make  his  bread  out  of  the  sorrows 
of  others,  or  to  enrich  himself  by  rendering 
others  poor  and  degraded.  Such  an  one,  look 
which  way  he  will,  must  see  the  evidences  of  his 
infamy  in  the  wretchedness  of  those  whom  his 
avarice  has  beggared,  and  in  the  ostracism,  so 
to  speak,  by  which  he  silently  passes  out  of  the 
circle  of  the  virtuous  and  the  good. 

"That  man  is  a  distiller."  "He  is  a  rum- 
seller."  "  He  is  a  gambler."  Are  not  these  terms 
now-a-days  daggers  to  any  man's  reputation? 
Who  can  maintain  his  manhood  whilst  they 
are  hurled  at  him  ?  Who  can  look  a  virtuous 
community  in  the  face  with  such  epithets  scorn- 
fully cast  in  his  teeth  ? 

It  is  of  vast  importance,  therefore,  to  have  a 
calling  which  may  be  prosecuted  with  a  clear 
conscience,   and  with  the   approbation    of  the 
7* 


78  THE   VOYAGE   OF   LIFE. 

good ;  a  calling  whose  success  shall  administer  to 
the  general  weal. 


HIGH   AIMS. 


Having  selected  a  lawful  occupation,  the  aim 
should  be  to  make  the  most  of  it,  to  excel  in  it, 
to  make  it  subsidiary  to  all  the  good  of  which  it 
is  capable.  "Every  man,"  said  one,  "owes 
something  to  his  own  profession."  He  should 
strive  to  make  it  more  honorable  by  his  having 
been  in  it.  He  should  oblige  men  to  say  "  that 
such  a  business  has  really  become  of  vast  import- 
ance in  the  hands  of  such  a  man."  If  he  is  a 
shoe-black,  he  should  try  to  put  his  polish 
ahead  of  all  the  rest  of  the  world.  If  he  is  a 
mechanic,  his  work  should  come  out  as  perfect  as 
it  is  possible  to  make  it.  His  name  and  reputa- 
tion should  be  stamped  in  the  perfection  of  his 
wares.  Is  he  a  merchant  1  No  man's  industry 
should  be  greater,  no  man's  honor  brighter,  than 
his.  His  intelligence  should  keep  pace  with  the 
times ;  and  his  increasing  riches,  placing  him  at 
length  among  the  princes  of  the  land,  should  be 


MANHOOD.  79 


liberally  applied  in  the  augmentation  of  human 
happiness,  the  promotion  of  the  arts;  and  the 
spread  of  the  gospel. 

The  professional  man,  teacher,  lawyer,  physi- 
cian, or  minister,  owes  something  respectively  to 
his  profession.  It  should  be  the  better  for  his 
having  been  in  it.  It  should  command  more 
respect  in  consequence  of  his  industry,  his 
talents,  and  his  success.  He  must  strive  to  Jill  it. 
His  reputation  must  reflect  back  upon  it,  so  that 
it  may  be  said  by  those  who  come  after  him  that 
the  profession  was  greatly  indebted  to  him  for 
efforts  which  he  put  forth  while  living,  and  for 
works  which  have  followed  him  after  death. 
Whatever  is  done  in  one's  calling  should  be  well 
done,  done  in  the  best  manner ;  that  is,  as  per- 
fectly as  the  individual  can  do  it,  according  to 
his  ability.  With  such  aims,  few  will  fail  in  the 
occupation  or  profession  which  he  may  have 
chosen. 


COMPETITORS. 


In  this  stirring  strife  of  men,  there  is  much 
rivalry.     There  are  many  competitors  who  eye 


80  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

each  other  with  an  interest  which  common  sym- 
pathies and  pursuits  necessarily  beget.  Side  by 
side  is  the  struggle  going  on,  and  each  is  vying 
with  all  the  rest  in  a  contest  of  skill,  where  suc- 
cess is  doubtful,  and  where  failure  is  not  in- 
frequent. How  hard,  under  these  circumstances, 
to  maintain  always  right  feelings  towards  those 
who  are  our  rivals  in  trade,  in  the  arts  or  in 
professional  life !  And  yet  the  world  is  wide 
enough  for  all.  The  stream  is  broad  enough  for 
each  one  to  steer  his  own  vessel  without  jostling 
against  that  of  his  neighbor,  or  coming  so  near 
even  as  to  take  the  wind  out  of  his  sails. 

In  this  wide  field  of  business  competition, 
every  one  should  be  allowed  free  scope  and  full 
liberty  to  outrun  all  the  rest,  provided  it  be  done 
honestly  and  honorably.  No  man  should  be 
blamed  for  doing  his  best,  if,  in  so  doing,  he 
fake  no  undue  advantage  of  his  neighbor,  or  use 
no  unlawful  expedients  to  advance  his  own  inter- 
ests. 

Comparisons  will  necessarily  be  made  as  to 
the  skill,  or  industry,  or  tact,  or  workmanship,  of 


MANHOOD.  81 


those  who  belong  to  the  same  craft ;  and  as  to 
the  texture  or  value  of  goods  sold  by  those  of 
the  same  trade ;  and  as  to  the  learning,  eloquence 
or  industry,  of  men  pursuing  similar  professions. 
The  public,  being  interested  in  all  this  matter, 
will,  of  course,  take  the  liberty  of  making  such 
comparisons,  and  of  choosing  according  to  their 
own  judgment,  and  with  a  view  to  their  own 
interests,  those  to  serve  them  who  will  serve 
them  the  best  or  the  cheapest. 

Now,  as  all  cannot  stand  first, —  as,  in  the 
nature  of  things,  and  according  to  a  law  which 
Providence  has  fixed,  some  must  rise  in  skill, 
tact,  talent  and  workmanship,  above  others. — it  is 
of  vast  importance  to  cultivate  a  right  spirit  in 
this  necessary  and  endless  competition,  involving 
every  grade  of  excellence,  every  variety  of  talent, 
and  every  measure  of  success.  The  prosperous 
should  not  become  proud,  nor  should  the  unfortu- 
nate be  envious  or  desponding.  It  should  be  the 
aim  of  all  to  learn  that  almost  impossible  lesson, 
of  "  looking  every  roan  not  simply  on  the  things 
of  himself,  but  on  those  of  another;"  that  is,  of 


82  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

wishing  well  to  his  neighbor,  in  all  his  interests, 
even  when  one's  own  affairs  may  not  be  in  the 
most  prosperous  condition.  This  is  a  hard 
lesson,  we  admit,  in  a  world  where  selfishness  is 
naturally  so  strong,  and  its  provocations  so 
powerful  and  numerous.  But  it  is  a  point  of 
practical  benevolence  at  which  all  should  aim. 

Often  do  we  hear  it  said  that  ' '  competition  is 
a  good  thing."  And  so  it  is :  good  in  many 
respects ;  good  often  for  those  who  strive  in  the 
race,  developing  skill  and  energy  which  otherwise, 
perhaps,  would  have  been  latent  or  unemployed ; 
good  for  the  public,  who  reap  thus  a  benefit 
which  isolated  efforts  could  not,  or  would  not. 
afford  ;  good  as  to  the  general  weal,  multiplying 
inventions  and  facilities  which  add  to  the  comfort 
and  convenience  of  life.  But  not  always  is  it 
good  in  its  effect  upon  the  competitor.  Malice, 
envy  and  detraction,  are  too  apt  to  be  engendered 
in  this  struggle  for  preeminence.  Artifices  not 
the  most  honorable  will  sometimes  be  resorted  to, 
in  order  to  get  an  advantage  of  one's  neighbor, 
to  supplant  him  in  the  patronage  which  he  has 


MANHOOD.  83 

obtained,  or  to  wrest  from  him  the  honors  which 
a  life  of  labor  and  mental  toil  should  have  secured 
to  him.  Endless  are  the  legal  conflicts  which 
such  conduct  has  led  to ;  and  inveterate  is  the 
hate  which  such  selfish  aims  and  efforts  have 
produced.  Such  things  roughen  and  render 
turbid  the  stream  of  life,  making  it  a  boisterous 
passage-way  to  a  dark  and  self-reproachful  end. 

What  if  rny  neighbor  makes  a  better  piece  of 
mechanism  than  I  can  make,  or  weaves  a  finer 
fabric,  or  builds  a  swifter  steamer  or  sail- vessel, — 
should  I  regret  it  ?  Should  I  envy  him  an  ad- 
vantage which  talent,  skill  or  industry,  has  given 
him  1  Considering  the  general  good,  I  ought 
even  to  be  glad  at  his  success.  And  suppose 
that,  by  original  genius,  or  intense  application, 
one  should  rise  above  me  in  a  capacity  to  serve 
the  public  as  a  teacher,  a  lawyer,  a  physician,  or 
a  minister, —  elevating  others  as  he  elevates  him- 
self, serving  his  generation  whilst  reaping  for 
himself  a  harvest  of  fame  or  of  money, —  should  I 
look  darkly  on  his  rising  influence  1  Much  less 
should  I  seek  to  dim  his  reputation  by  detraction 


84  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

or  reproachful  insinuations  ?  His  success 
should  only  stimulate  me  to  a  noble  competition 
in  the  race  of  honor,  industry  and  benevolence. 

"Live  and  let  live,"  is  an  old  and  homely 
maxim.     But  there  is  a  great  deal  of  meanin^  in 

o  O 

it.  All  cannot  be  first.  There  must  be  kings 
and  queens,  peers  and  nobles,  in  all  professions 
and  pursuits.  Some  are  such  by  nature,  and 
some  by  effort  and  by  circumstances.  The 
highest  standard  is  open  to  all.  though  reached 
only  by  a  few.  All  have  their  chance  ;  and  none 
should  complain  that  a  grade  in  life  or  a 
measure  of  success  is  assigned  him  far  below  bis 
merits,  whilst  others  have  been  unduly  exalted  to 
honor  and  to  opulence.  These  things  will  be  so ; 
and  Providence  has  much  to  do  in  their  order- 
ing. In  the  jostlings  of  life,  some  will  seem  to 
get  uppermost  who  should  have  occupied  a 
medium  or  perhaps  the  lowest  position ;  whilst 
others  will,  for  a  time,  be  depressed,  whose 
talents  or  virtues  should  have  given  them  a  more 
prominent  station. '  But  time  and  experience  are 
very  apt  to  rectify  this  temporary  derangement 


MANHOOD.  85 


of  things.  In  the  end,  and  after  a  time,  each 
one  ordinarily  reaches  the  level  which,  by  a  just 
appreciation  of  his  talents  and  character,  would 
naturally  have  been  assigned  to  him.  A  spuri- 
ous reputation  will,  after  a  time,  run  itself  out. 
All  the  puffing  and  bolstering  which  can  be  applied 
to  sustain  it  will  not  succeed.  It  may  rise  to  a 
temporary  notoriety,  but  it  will  go  out  like  a 
rocket,  and  sometimes  almost  as  suddenly ;  whilst 
real  worth,  if  for  a  time  obscure  or  unappreci- 
ated, will  steal  gradually  upon  the  notice,  and  in 
the  end  fix  itself  firmly  in  the  esteem  of  all  the 
good  and  the  virtuous. 

To  make  the  voyage  of  life  pleasant,  we  must 
cultivate  that  benevolence  which  rejoices  in  the 
success  of  others,  even  though  that  success 
should  cast  a  shadow  upon  our  own  prosperity. 
Such  is  the  gospel  rule.  Is  it  an  impossible  reach 
of  moral  virtue  ?  Happy  the  bosorn  of  him  who 
can  say,  "I  desire  the  success  of  a  rival.  In 
his  prosperity  I  can  rejoice,  and  in  his  misfor- 
tunes I  can  feel  for  him  a  generous  sympathy." 

Many  of  the  rough  passages  of  life  in  early 
8 


86  THE    VOYAGE    OP   LIFE. 

manhood  are  from  the  conflicts  of  selfishness,  or 
from  unkind  suspicions  among  rivals.  But 
adopt  the  principle  recommended ;  act  up  to  the 
irecept  of  "  doing  unto  others  as  ye  would  that 
they  should  do  unto  you,''  carry  this  out  fully 
into  practical  life,  and  it  would  spread  over 
society  the  aspect  of  Paradise.  It  would  calm 
the  turbulent  waters  of  strife,  and  make  the  pas- 
sage over  them  more  beauteous  than  the  tri- 
umphal regatta  of  Egypt's  far-famed  queen,  with 
her  sails  swelled  by  aromatic  airs,  and  her  golden 
barge  reflected  in  the  calm  waters  of  the  Nile. 

HELP   AKD   SYMPATHY. 

"No  man  liveth  to  himself,"  is  one  of  the 
maxims  of  Christianity.  This  implies  a  sym- 
pathy with  others,  and  a  disposition  to  lend  a 
helping  hand  in  their  troubles  and  afflictions. 

In  this  eventful  voyage  on  which  we  are  all 
embarked,  there  are  vicissitudes  as  numerous  as 
are  found  amid  the  conflicting  winds  and  tides 
and  currents  of  the  ocean.  Some  will  have  a 
favoring  gale  at  the  same  time  that  others  are 


MANHOOD.  87 


becalmed ;  and  one  will  feel  the  storm  from 
•which  another  will  be  sheltered.  Now  you  will 
discover  one  with  sails  all  bent,  and  moving  by 
prosperous  winds  directly  to  the  port  of  destina- 
tion. Richly  freighted,  and  without  an  accident, 
he  will  enter  the  harbor.  Again  you  will  see 
nothing  but  storms,  and  disasters,  and  shipwreck. 

So  is  it  in  this  great  and  perilous  voyage  of 
life.  Hence  the  prosperous  should  be  ready  to 
sympathize  with  and  aid  the  unfortunate. 

How  strange  it  would  seem,  if,  Avhen  a  signal 
of  distress  were  seen  flying,  or  the  booming  gun, 
giving  token  of  disaster  and  shipwreck,  were 
heard  over  the  stormy  deep,  the  tight  and  well- 
appointed  ship  ploughing  the  waves  hard  by 
should  give  no  heed  to  such  signals !  How 
unfeeling,  how  inhuman  even,  would  this  be 
considered !  It  is  expected,  in  such  circum- 
stances, that  help  will  promptly  be  rendered. 
And  should  it  be  otherwise  when  the  signals  of 
distress  are  on  the  land,  instead  of  the  sea? 
What  renders  the  obligation  greater  to  aid  the 
unfortunate  in  the  one  case,  rather  than  in  the 


88  THE   VOYAGE   OF   LIFE. 

other?  True  it  is,  that,  on  the  ocean,  life  is 
often  in  more  imminent  peril,  and  the  aid  which 
is  extended  may  save  from  an  immediate  and 
awful  destruction.  In  this  respect  it  is  admitted 
that  the  relief  seems  more  imperatively  de- 
manded. But  how  often,  in  the  vicissitudes  of 
life,  over  which  man  has  no  control,  comes  there 
a  wave  of  misfortune,  that  extinguishes  the  hopes 
of  years,  and  sweeps  away  entirely  the  means  of 
support  on  which  a  circle  of  cherished  hearts 
were  wont  to  depend  !  Shall  no  generous  mind  be 
found  to  sympathize,  no  ready  hand  be  extended 
to  aid,  no  effort  be  made  to  cheer  and  encourage 
the  depressed  and  care-stricken  man  ?  Too  often, 
alas  !  in  such  circumstances,  do  the  prosperous 
sail  by,  without  casting  even  an  eye  of  pity  on 
the  shipwrecked  sufferer. 

At  such  a  time,  one  word  of  kindness,  one 
look  of  sympathy,  and  especially,  where  it  can  be 
bestowed,  the  substantial  help  and  succor  so 
much  needed,  would  be  worth  a  thousand  demon- 
strations of  interest  in  ordinary  or  prosperous 
circumstances.  Pass  not,  then,  by,  like  the 


MANHOOD.  89 


priest  in  Scripture,  with  cold,  averted  eye ;  nor 
like  the  Levite,  only  giving  a'look  of  pity  and  a 
significant  shake  of  the  head  ;  but,  like  the  good 
Samaritan,  go  and  bind  up  his  wounds,  and  pro- 
vide for  his  temporary  sustenance,  and  start  him 
afresh  on  his  journey.  What  has  befallen  him 
may  ere  long  befall  thee.  The  storm  that  has 
overtaken  and  prostrated  him  may  not  have  been 
of  sufficient  breadth  to  take  in  thy  fair  domain ; 
but  the  time  may  come  when  the  green  bay- 
tree  of  thy  own  prosperity  may  bow  before  the 
tempest,  and  the  sympathy  which  thou  art  now 
extending  to  others  be  required  and  repaid 
under  circumstances  quite  as  disastrous  and 
hopeless. 

Beautiful  is  the  sight  when  the  prosperous  are 
seen  aiding  the  unfortunate  !  It  is  so  in  unison 
with  that  religion  which  casts  its  sheltering  arms 
around  the  despairing  soul ;  which  gives  not  only 
to  the  unfortunate,  but  to  the  unworthy ;  which 
delights  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost, —  that  religion 
whose  spirit  was  embodied  and  set  forth  in  the 
life  and  example  of  Him  who  sought  not  his  own 
8* 


90  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

glory,  lived  not  for  his  own  ease,  labored  not  for 
his  own  advancement,  but  who  went  about  doing 
good,  sympathizing  with  the  sufferer,  and  claim- 
ing as  his  beneficiaries  the  outcast  and  the  un- 
fortunate. From  his  lips  it  was  that  the  precept 
fell,  "as  ye  would  that  men  should  do  unto  you, 
do  ye  even  so  unto  them  ;"  and,  acting  in  the 
spirit  of  this  precept,  he  set  an  example  of  be- 
nevolence and  self-sacrifice  which  none  can  equal, 
but  which  all  are  bound  to  admire  and  to  emu- 
late. 


CHAPT  ER    V. 

TRIALS — HOW   TO    BE   MET. 

THE  sympathy  of  others  is  needful,  and  their 
help  in  adversity  timely ;  but  the  less  reliance 
that  is  placed  thereon,  the  better.  Manhood,  in 
its  struggles  "with  adversity,  has  got  to  fall  back 
upon  Providence,  and  upon  its  own  indomitable 
resolution. 

In  this  rough  and  stormy  passage,  too  much 
forethought  cannot  be  exercised,  in  view  of  pos- 
sible disasters ;  nor  too  much  patience,  and  forti- 
tude, and  firm  adherence  to  principle,  when  they 
are  actually  encountered.  "  To  look  on  the 
bright  side,"  as  some  will  counsel,  is  not  always 
possible,  unless  there  be  strong  faith  in  God ;  and 
sometimes,  even  where  such  faith  exists,  the 
bright  side  is  hid  by  the  opaque  shadow  of  actual 
and  pressing  affliction. 

These  trials  are  various  and  numerous,  and  lie 


92  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIO. 

upon  us,  with  but;  slight  intermission,  until  the 
end  is  reached.  The  best-concerted  schemes 
will  sometimes  miscarry.  The  hand  of  diligence 
will  not  always  insure  riches,  and  the  greatest 
precautions  will  not  avail  in  securing  what 
industry  and  skill  have  accumulated.  Mutability 
and  uncertainty  are  written  upon  every  earthly 
possession  and  prospect. 

How  many,  at  the  outset  of  life,  are  all  hope, 
animation  and  eager  expectation  !  Every  sail  is 
unfurled,  and  every  streamer  dancing  gayly  in  the 
breeze.  The  skies  seem  to  smile  over  them,  and 
the  sea  to  present  a  placid  or  but  slightly  rippled 
surface.  But  no  more  can  we  expect  this  to 
last,  in  the  career  of  human  experience,  than  we 
can  expect  the  ocean  to  be  always  calm,  and  its 
winds  always  propitious. 

Rightly,  as  we  conceive,  has  the  artist  repre- 
sented the  period  of  manhood  as  marked  by 
perils,  and  overshadowed  for  the  most  part  with 
clouds.  See  that  frail  bark,  with  its  helm  gone, 
rushing  towards  the  rapids,  whilst  the  anxious 
voyager,  clasping  his  hands  as  if  in  supplication, 


TRIALS  —  HOW   TO    BE   MET.  93 

looks  eagerly  for  help  from  above.  Every- 
thing in  the  picture  wears  a  sombre  hue.  The 
overhanging  cliffs,  the  descending  flood,  the  shat- 
tered vessel,  the  dim  ocean  stretching  aAvay  in 
the  distance,  the  lurid  clouds  revealing  shadowy 
and  frightful  forms,  all  bespeak  a  dangerous 
crisis,  in  which  the  faith,  the  patience  and  the 
fortitude  of  manhood,  are  to  be  put  to  a  severe 
test. 

What  is  here  allegorically  pictured  we  may 
see  every  day  realized,  in  the  blasted  hopes  and 
shipwrecked  prospects  of  early  manhood.  One 
will  be  disappointed  in  his  expectations  of 
domestic  happiness.  The  bright  visions  of  youth 
give,  in  general,  too  deep  a  coloring  to  connubial 
bliss  ;  and  the  anticipations  of  a  domestic  para- 
dise have  not  only  never  been  realized,  but,  with 
some,  have  ended  in  trials  the  most  unexpected 
and  insupportable. 

Another  will  find  his  schemes  of  earthly 
advancement  thwarted,  and  the  prize  on  which 
he  had  set  his  eye  forever  eluding  his  grasp. 
At  a  time  when  he  expected  to  be  rich,  he  will 


94  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

find  himself  poor ;  and  in  circumstances  where  he 
counted  upon  friends,  he  will  see  himself  isolated 
and  deserted.  With  some  it  is  a  struggle  even 
for  existence ;  and  this  struggle  has  to  be  made 
often  with  but  little  sympathy,  and  with  no  sub- 
stantial succor. 

Did  the  trial  aifect  but  one, —  did  it  reach  not 
beyond  the  individual  man, —  it  would  be  compara- 
tively easy  to  be  borne.  But,  in  general,  it  is 
rendered  the  more  poignant  as  abridging  the 
happiness  of  a  beloved  and  dependent  circle,  who 
had  been  nurtured,  perhaps,  in  affluence,  and 
accustomed  to  all  the  comforts  and  luxuries  which 
affluence  supplies.  To  say  to  these  dear  ones, 
"  I  have  not  the  ability  to  sustain  you ;  your 
wants  can  no  longer  be  supplied ;  your  bread 
even  is  henceforth  to  be  '  the  bread  of  affliction,'  " 
is  a  trial  which  the  stoutest  and  manliest  h^art 
cannot  contemplate  but  with  dismay.  Yet  how 
many  have  to  look  this  trial  in  the  face !  The 
prospect  drives  them  almost  to  madness.  Ah, 
yes !  those  shapes  of  horrid  import,  which  the 
artist  has  made  dimly  to  glare  from  the  clouds, — 


TRIALS  —  HOW    TO    BE   MET.  95 

the  one  brandishing  a  dagger,  and  the  other  ex- 
tending the  inebriating  cup, —  are  introduced  as 
suggestions  which  come  from  the  spirit  of  dark- 
ness to  man  under  his  deepest  woes. 

DESPAIR   AND    SELF-DESTRUCTION. 

The  painter  has  in  this  sketch  but  followed 
the  great  dramatist,  who,  in  a  well-known  pas- 
sage, long  ago,  depicted  the  temptation  to  suicide 
which  the  apparently  insupportable  trials  of  life 
suggest. 

"  For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time, 
The  oppressor's  wrong,  the  proud  man's  contumely, 
The  pangs  of  despised  love,  the  law's  delay, 
The  insolence  of  office,  and  the  spurns 
That  patient  merit  of  the  unworthy  takes  ; 
When  he  himself  might  his  quietus  make 
With  a  bare  bodkin  ?     Who  would  fardels  bear, 
To  groan  and  sweat  under  a  weary  life, 
But  that  the  dread  of  something  after  death,  — 
The  undiscovered  country,  from  whose  bourn 
No  traveller  returns,  —  puzzles  the  will, 
And  makes  us  rather  bear  those  ills  we  have, 
Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of?  " 

But  where  is  our  manhood,  if  the  trials  of  life, 
however  severe,  force  us  to  so  cowardly  a  device, 


96  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

—  to  so  horrible  a  crime  ?  Who  will  struggle 
for  our  loved  ones,  if  their  natural  guardian  or 
protector,  by  so  desperate  a  plunge,  has  aban- 
doned them?  How  ungenerous,  mean,  selfish, 
to  rush  out  of  the  world,  in  order  to  get  rid  of 
responsibilities  which  none  but  ourselves  can 
feel,  and  which,  mayhap,  no  one  else  will  be 
ready  to  assume  !  Where  is  our  fortitude,  our 
courage,  if,  in  this  day  of  our  calamity,  we 
retreat  behind  the  curtain  of  death,  and  leave  our 
dependent  ones,  less  able  than  ourselves  to 
breast  the  storm  ? 

"  Suicide,"  says  an  eminent  writer  on  morals, 
"has  been  called  magnanimity;  —  but  what  is 
magnanimity  ?  A  patient  endurance  of  evil  to 
effect  a  proposed  good  ;  and  when,  considering 
the  strange  mutability  of  human  affairs,  are  we 
to  consider  this  endurance  as  useless,  or  when 
should  hope  terminate  but  with  life  1  To  linger 
out  year  after  year,  unbroken  in  spirit,  un- 
changed in  purpose,  is  doubtless  a  less  imposing 
destiny  than  public  and  pompous  suicide ;  but,  if 
to  be,  is  more  commendable  than  to  seem  to  be ; 


TRIALS  —  HOW   TO    BE   MET.  97 

if  we  love  the  virtue  better  than  the  name,  then 
is  it  true  magnanimity  to  extract  "wisdom  from 
misery  and  doctrine  from  shame,  to  call  day  and 
night  upon  God,  to  keep  the  mind's  eye  sternly 
riveted  on  its  object,  through  failure  and  through 
suffering,  through  evil  report  and  through  good 
report,  and  to  make  the  bed  of  death  the  only 
grave  of  human  hope."* 

That  dark  suggestion,  intimated  first,  perhaps, 
in  the  wish  to  die,  and  then  taking  a  still  more 
criminal  shape,  flitting  before  the  mind  under 
its  gloomy  cogitations, —  that  dreadful  thought, 
at  once  resist.  Drive  it  hence,  as  one  of  the  sug- 
gestions of  hell !  Stand  up  calm  and  resolute 
amid  thy  shipwrecked  hopes,  and,  directing  thy 
eye  upward,  like  the  man  in  the  boat,  call  for 
help  upon  God.  "  He  is  a  present  help  in  every 
time  of  trouble."  All  is  not  lost  where  hope 
remains.  The  darkest  night  has  its  succeeding 
dawn.  The  wildest  storm  cannot  rage  forever, 
;and  despair  sometimes  borders  close  upon  salva- 

*  Sydney  Smith. 

9 


98  THE   VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

tion.  Show  thy  manhood,  in  meeting  and  con- 
quering these  difficulties!  Show  thy  patience 
and  perseverance  and  energy  under  them  !  The 
trial  may  be  salutary,  and  thy  character  may 
need  brightening  amid  these  very  furnace-fires. 

What  a  noble  example  is  presented  of  suffering 
patience  in  the  character  and  conduct  of  an  Old 
Testament  patriarch !  Whoever  had  greater 
reason  to  give  up  than  Job,  to  curse  God  and 
die,  as  even  the  wife  of  his  bosom  advised  him  to 
do  ?  But  no  ;  he  scorned  the  impious  thought. 
He  would  suffer  God's  will.  He  would  wait 
patiently  until  his  change  came.  He  committed 
himself  unto  God.  and  resolved  to  trust  in  him. 
though  he  should  slay  him.  There  was  a  noble 
and  courageous  determination  in  him  to  suffer, 
because  the  evil,  as  well  as  the  good,  came  from 
the  hand  of  God.  To  commit  suicide  was,  in 
Job's  estimation,  to  rush  upon  the  thick  bosses 
of  Jehovah's  buckler.  Away,  then,  with  the 
horrible  suggestion,  and  breast  thyself,  0 
afflicted  man,  to  the  billows,  and,  with  God's 
help,  struggle  for  the  rock  of  safety ! 


TRIALS — HOAV   TO    BE   MET.  99 


INTEMPERANCE. 


"But  some,  who  would  shudder  at  the  thought 
of  self-destruction,  adopt,  nevertheless,  means  of 
relief  in  trouble  as  certainly  suicidal  as  if  they 
were  to  thrust  a  poniard  into  their  vitals. 

See  ye  that  hand  just  emerging  from  the 
cloud  over  the  stream  ;  and  that  fiend-like  face 
that  accompanies  it,  looking  toward  the  voyager, 
and  seeming  to  invite  him  to  partake  ?  That  is 
the  personification  of  intemperance,  and  that  cup 
in  his  hand  is  the  inebriating  cup. 

How  many,  when  the  storm  gathers,  and  the 
stream  roughens,  and  things  look  dark  around 
them,  are  tempted  by  this  vision,  and  seize  the 
fatal  cup,  in  the  hope  of,  at  least,  a  temporary 
oblivion  of  their  cares  ! 

It  is  told  of  an  Indian  navigating  his  canoe 
near  the  rapids  of  Niagara,  that,  finding  his 
efforts  unavailing  to  reach  the  shore,  and  sup- 
posing his  fate  inevitable,  he  took  his  liquor- 
flask  and  drank  it  off,  and  then,  lying  down  in 
the  bottom  of  the  boat,  was  carried  over  the  falls, 


100  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

and  seen  no  more.  How  often  have  we  heard 
also  of  mariners,  when  their  vessel  seemed  about 
to  break  up,  and  every  energy  was  required  to 
keep  her  afloat,  and  thus  save  the  precious  lives 
intrusted  to  their  care,  suddenly  seized  with  a 
panic,  and,  rushing  to  the  lockers,  drink  them- 
selves into  stupidity,  that  they  might  not  be 
conscious  of  their  impending  destruction. 

The  same  reckless,  atheistic  principle  will 
sometimes  seize  upon  a  husband  or  father,  in 
view  of  disasters  and  trials  which  have  befallen 
him ;  and  he  will  fly  to  this  dreadful  opiate  to 
drown  the  sorrows  of  his  mind,  and  render  him 
for  the  time  unconscious  of  his  and  their  misery. 
Shame  on  the  man  who  will  thus  destroy  what  is 
left  of  hope  to  himself  and  his  family  !  It  is 
worse  than  suicidal.  It  is  a  death-blow  to  his 
own  soul,  and  an  entailed  disgrace,  which  will  fix 
on  those  who,  when  spoken  of,  will  be  spoken  of 
as  the  wife  and  children,  the  brothers  and  sisters, 
of  a  drunkard.  And  is  it  not  cowardly,  succumb- 
ing to  vice  at  a  time  when  the  most  heroic 
virtues  are  called  for  ? 


TRIALS  —  HOW   TO    BE   MET.  101 

Say  to  misfortune,  then,  "  Thou  shalt  rather 
drive  me  to  madness  than  to  inebriation.  I  will 
die  a  virtuous  man,  and  leave  to  my  posterity  a 
name  which  they  shall  not  blush  to  own."  It 
will  be  no  disgrace  to  them  that  their  husband  or 
father  was  unfortunate,  was  poor ;  but  it  will  be 
an  indelible  stigma,  if  with  his  poverty  must  be 
associated  one  of  the  most  beastly  and  destruc- 
tive of  vices. 

In  thy  troubles,  brooding  over  them  until  they 
wear  a  shape  of  dark  and  despairing  magnitude, 
should  the  demon  whisper  to  thee  of  the  inebriat- 
ing cup,  say  No  !  Think  of  all  the  awful  con- 
sequences, and  say  "  No, —  never  !  " 

Satan  tempted  the  holiest,  in  an  hour  of  weak- 
ness, abstinence  and  loneliness.  And  he  takes 
occasion,  in  like  manner,  when  troubles  arise,  to 
tempt  men, —  weak  men, —  to  despair,  suicide 
and  inebriation.  And,  0,  how  many  have  thus 
gone  down  to  an  endless  despair,  and  left  behind 
them  "  the  memory  of  the  wicked  that  shall  rot ! " 

If  any  who  read  these  pages,  thus  situated, 
are  thus  tempted,  let  the  warning  note  be  heard 
9* 


102  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

in  time  to  rescue  from  a  shipwreck  -which  takes 
with  it  body  and  soul,  —  that  sweeps  into  the 
same  vortex  the  hopes  and  the  reputation  of 
those  whom  he  is  bound  to  love  and  to  cherish, 
and  who  in  general  are  willing  to  take  the  same 
lot  with  himself,  and  uncomplainingly  submit  to 
the  same  privations.  For  their  sakes,  as  well  as 
for  his  own,  let  him  eschew  all  such  relief  as 
these  temptations  would  suggest. 


NONE   NEED    DESPAIR. 


There  is  no  need  of  absolute  despair  in  the 
•worst  of  situations,  in  circumstances  the  darkest 
and  most  disheartening.  There  is  a  possibility  that 
"  something  may  turn  up,"  a  possibility  which 
has  been  as  a  day-star  to  many  an  unfortunate. 
There  are  pithy  sayings,  transmitted  by  human 
experience,  which  serve  as  life-buoys  in  the  flood 
of  human  trials;  such  as  "Hope  on,  hope  ever," 
"  The  darkest  time  is  just  before  the  day," 
"  Never  give  up."  To  these  maxims,  derived 
from  human  experience,  may  be  added  those 
•which  are  more  than  human,  —  which  are  divine ; 


TRIALS  —  HOW   TO    BE   MET.  103 

such  as,  '  •'  Trust  in  the  Lord  and  do  good ;  so 
shalt  thou  dwell  in  the  land,  and  verily  thou 
shalt  be  fed."  "  None  of  them  that  trust  in 
him  shall  be  desolate."  "  It  is  better  to  trust 
in  the  Lord  than  to  put  confidence  in  man." 
"  Light  is  sown  for  the  righteous."  "  Take  no 
thought  (anxious  thought)  for  the  morrow  :  suf- 
ficient unto  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof."  "  Give 
us  this  day  our  daily  bread,"  is  a  prayer  which 
all  the  dependent  creatures  of  God  have  a  right 
to  offer ;  and  which,  if  offered  in  sincerity  and 
faith,  will  be  heard  and  answered.  . 

There  is  not  on  earth  a  more  noble  sight  than 
a  man,  amidst  overwhelming  trials,  resolving  to 
bear  meekly  and  submissively  the  ills  of  life, 
accompanied  with  the  purpose  to  try  every  ex- 
pedient which  may  lawfully  be  used  to  rise  above 
them.  This  is  being  the  man.  It  is  manhood  in 
its  sublimest  attitude.  "  To  do  faithfully,"  says 
an  eccentric  but  popular  writer,*  "  whatsoever 
thing,  in  your  actual  situation,  then  and  now, 

*  Carlyle. 


104  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

you  find  expressly  or  tacitly  laid  down  to  your 
charge ;  that  is,  stand  to  your  post ;  stand  in  it 
like  a  true  soldier.  Silently  devour  the  many 
chagrins  of  it, —  all  situations  have  many, —  and 
see  you  aim  not  to  quit  it,  without  doing  all  that 
is  your  duty." 

The  man  who  thus  acts  —  who  aims,  amid 
severe  trials,  to  workout  his  temporal  salvation  — 
•will  be  likely  to  find  a  favoring  Providence  ready 
to  work  with  him  and  to  work  for  him.  Such 
an  one  will  also  have  the  sympathy  of  all  gener- 
ous hearts ;  and,  cold  as  the  world  is  said  to  be, 
he  will  be  very  apt  to  find  an  occasional  hand 
extended  to  help  him  in  his  struggles. 


PHOSPEKITY. 


But  the  supposition  all  along  has  been  that 
manhood  is  the  period  only  of  disaster  and  of 
trial ;  and  founded  on  this  supposition  have  been 
the  counsels  which,  under  such  trials,  seemed 
needful  and  appropriate.  But  is  there  not  a  sea- 

• 

son  of  prosperity ;  and  are  there  not  dangers  and 
perils  peculiar  to  such  a  state,  if  not  as  palpable 


TRIALS — HOW   TO    BE    MET.  105 

or  as  readily  acknowledged,  yet  as  real,  and 
sometimes  as  fatal,  as  in  adversity  ?  I  am 
aware  of  the  practical  scepticism  that  exists  on 
this  subject.  I  also  understand  how  little  appre- 
hension is  felt  by  the  votaries  of  the  world  in 
regard  to  the  moral  dangers  of  earthly  prosperity. 
"  Be  it  so,"  says  the  eager  devotee  of  wealth  or 
fame ;  " admit  that  there  are  some  such  dangers; 
yet  who  would  not  be  willing  to  run  the  risk,  if 
he  might  only  be  one  of  fortune's  favorites  ? 
Give  me  my  wishes  in  this  respect,  and  I  am 
ready  to  incur  the  hazard  and  to  take  the 
responsibility." 

Foolish  and  inconsiderate  declaration  !  Thou 
knowest  not  what  thou  sayest.  Thy  selfish 
heart,  thirsting  for  riches  or  reputation  among 
men,  and  bent  on  their  attainment,  as  containing, 
in  thy  estimation,  all  that  man  can  wish,  sees 
not  the  evils  which  lurk  in  the  path  that  leads  to 
them,  nor  the  perils  to  which,  when  obtained, 
their  possessor  is  exposed?  Blind,  or  rather 
dazzled  to  blindness,  by  that  one  object,  the 
golden  prize,  thou  seest  not  the  temptations 


106  THE  VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

•which  beset  the  man  who  is  determined  to  seize 
upon  it.  In  the  pursuit,  dishonesty,  criminal 
worldliness,  neglect  of  the  soul ;  in  the  possession, 
avarice,  pride,  sensuality.  The  "  deceitfulness 
of  riches  "  is  a  scriptural  expression  which  ex- 
perience interprets  and  verifies.  These  are 
deceitful.  Their  power  to  make  happy  is  mere 
pretension.  They  may  add  to  one's  happiness 
who  has  other  and  higher  elements  of  felicity ; 
but,  when  they  .are  sought  as  the  principal  means 
of  happiness,  they  are  sure  to  "  pierce  their 
possessors  through  with  many  sorrows." 


DISHONESTY. 


Riches  tempt  to  dishonesty.  If  they  can  be 
gotten  honestly,  well ;  but  if  not,  and  if  the 
.opportunity  offer  to  reach  the  prize  by  tortuous 
and  dishonest  ways,  he  whose  sole  aim  is 
wealth  will  be  very  apt  —  so  powerful  is  the  sway 
of  this  one  desire  —  to  barter  his  character,  his 
integrity,  his  soul,  for  gold.  In  such  a  case, 
must  it  not  prove  as  "  a  canker  that  shall  eat  his 
flesh  as  it  were  fire  "  ? 


TRIALS  —  HOW    TO    BE    MET.  107 


Worldly  prosperity,  the  increase  of  riches,  is 
often  accompanied  by  avarice,  and  operates,  in 
many  cases,  to  foster  it.  We  have  known  men 
liberal  when  poor,  or  comparatively  poor,  and 
penurious  and  close  as  they  became  affluent. 
Their  donations  to  charitable  objects  grew  pro- 
portionably  small  as  their  means  to  bestow  grew 
abundant.  How  is  this  ?  Simply  on  the  prin- 
ciple that  a  naturally  selfish  heart  contracts 
more  and  more  in  the  process  of  accumulation. 
Practical  benevolence,  giving  to,  and  doing  for 
others, —  this  is  the  only  antagonism  to  our 
naturally  selfish  inclinations. 

A  miser  is,  by  common  consent,  a  mean 
character ;  and  who  will  argue  that  he  is  happy  ? 
Yet  how  many,  in  the  pursuit  of  wealth,  where 
wealth  is  the  all-absorbing  object,  approach  this 
sordid  grade  of  existence,  having  the  moral  traits 
•without  the  outward  discomfort  and  squalid  con- 
dition of  the  miser ! 

The  character  which  I  have  in  view  is  no  un- 


108  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE.  * 

common  one.  It  is  exemplified,  and  some  may 
see  it  exemplified,  in  their  own  conduct,  whenever 
generosity  is  appealed  to,  or  charity  solicits  aid. 

You  will  see  a  man  selfishly  extravagant  in 
the  outlay  which  he  makes  on  his  house,  or  his 
table,  or  his  equipage,  or  his  dress ;  but  who 
never  has  it  in  his  power  to  assist  the  unfortu- 
nate, to  help  on  the  great  work  of  charity,  or  to 
do  his  part  with  others  in  some  generous  plan  for 
the  public  weal.  A  decent  regard  to  his  repu- 
tation may  induce  him  to  give  a  mere  pittance  ; 
but  even  that  is  bestowed  so  ungraciously,  and 
with  so  many  professions  of  poverty  or  bad  luck 
or  misfortune,  that  it  is  as  much  a  matter  of 
self-denial  in  the  applicant  to  ask  it  of  him,  as  it 
evidently  is  for  him  to  bestow  it. 

Now,  such  a  man  cannot  know  the  meaning, 
cannot  comprehend  the  meaning,  of  that  declara- 
tion, "It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive." 
The  happiness  of  him  "who  considereth  the 
poor  "  is  a  species  of  felicity  to  which  such  a 
bosom  is,  and  ever  must  be,  a  stranger. 

If  such  be  the  effect  of  riches, —  if  the  heart 


TRIALS  —  HOW   TO    BE   MET.  109 

must  be  paralyzed  by  them,  robbed  of  all  its 
generous  sympathies,  reduced  to  adamant, —  is  it 
not  a  perilous  pursuit ;  one  that  promises  a  good 
whose  attainment  must  often  be  attended  with 
evils  which  more  than  counterbalance  a  thousand 
times  that  good  1 

It  behooves  the  prosperous,  then,  to  take  host- 
ages of  fortune,  to  make  friends  wiih  "  the 
mammon  of  unrighteousness,"  to  do  battle  with 
their  selfishness.  Whatever  be  the  suggestions 
of  avarice,  they  should  nevertheless  turn  their 
ear  to  the  call  of  charity,  and  compel  themselves, 
— if  it  can  be  done  on  no  more  generous  principle, 
• — actually  compel  themselves  to  a  course  of  be- 
nevolent action.  What  is  done  at  first  by  con- 
straint may  ultimately  be  done  as  a  pleasure. 
They  may  find  a  sweet  after-thought,  even  in 
their  extorted  charity,  which  may  lead  them  to 
repeat  the  deed,  until,  at  length,  is  formed  a 
habit  of  generous  bestowment. 

Some  are,  indeed,  liberal  by  nature,  and  need 
no  such  exhortation ;  but  most  men  who  have 
toiled  to  accumulate  wealth,  in  giving  to  chari- 
10 


110  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

table  objects,  are  obliged  to  do  a  sort  of  violence 
to  the  selfishness  which  has  for  a  long  time 
intrenched  itself  in  the  heart. 


EXTRAVAGANCE. 


Another  evil  into  which  prosperity  sometimes 
leads  a  man  is  extravagance. 

Under  the  first  flush  of  success  in  business,  or 
not  unfrequently  even  in  anticipation  of  such 
success,  some  will  launch  forth  in  a  style  of 
grandeur  unwarranted  by  their  prospects,  and,  in 
the  eyes  of  all  discreet  persons,  ominous  of  their 
fall.  With  other  men's  money  they  will  build, 
and  furnish,  and  dash,  until  a  crisis  comes,  such 
as  in  mercantile  life  is  not  uncommon,  when  lo  ! 
this  vision  of  grandeur  vanishes,  like  a  dream  of 
the  night. 

Such  is  a  brief  history  of  many  who  start  on 
the  voyage  of  life  with  more  pride  than  discre- 
tion, with  more  sail  than  ballast ;  and  the  voyage 
with  them  is  both  short  and  disastrous. 

Beware,  then,  reader,  of  the  rock  on  which  so 
many  have  made  shipwreck  !  Spread  not  too 


TRIALS — HOW   TO    BE   MET.  Ill 


much  canvas  at  first.  The  tendency  of  the 
times  is  to  start  on  the  top  wave, —  to  crowd  all 
sail,  regardless  of  consequences.  A  scale  of 
living  such  as  would  insure  comfort  and  conve- 
nience,— such  as,  half  a  century  ago.  would  even 
have  been  deemed  stylish,  —  is  now  too  plain,  too 
almost  vulgar,  to  satisfy  the  ambitious  aspirant, 
who  foolishly  associates  outward  show  with 
respectability. 

There  is  a  vast  disproportion,  in  many  cases, 
between  the  scale  of  household  expenditure  and 
the  actual  income.  Among  the  influences  which 
tend  to  make  shipwreck  of  early  manhood,  this 
of  extravagant  living  is  not  the  least  frequent. 
And  hence  we  say  to  all  those  who  are  about  to 
set  up  in  life, —  and  we  address  ourselves  to 
young  householders,  women  as  well  as  men,— 
be  sure  that  your  scale  of  expenditure  be  care- 
fully graduated  to  your  actual  income.  Away 
with  that  foolish  pride,  that  seeks  to  emulate  the 
more  opulent  neighbor,  or  to  vie  with  one  who 
may  himself  be  steering  in  a  direct  course 
towards  the  whirlpool  of  bankruptcy  !  Be  satis- 


112  THE  VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 

fied  to  move  discreetly,  and  even  slowly,  in  the 
matter  of  household  luxury.  When  the  time 
comes  for  enlargement, — when,  by  the  blessing 
of  Providence  on  well-applied  industry,  you  are 
able  to  live  on  a  scale  even  of  grandeur, —  who  will 
object?  Who  has  a  right  to  object,  provided 
you  see  fit  to  adopt  such  a  course  ? 

In  our  view,  everything  should  be  symmetrical 
and  well  proportioned.  The  rich  man  naturally, 
and,  for  aught  we  can  see,  very  properly,  adopts 
a  scale  of  household  expenditure  proportioned  to 
his  vast  income.  He  lives,  it  may  be,  in  a 
palace;  and  he  expends  money  in  a  thousand 
ways,  which  go  to  sustain  the  humbler  classes 
in  the  prosecution  of  the  industrial  and  decorative 
arts.  Thus,  while  ministering  to  his  own  taste, 
he  is  aiding  in  the  support  of  others ;  a  benefad- 
tor  to  society  unconsciously,  even  while  selfishly 
surrounding  himself  with  temporal  grandeur. 

But,  if,  emulating  this  show  and  glitter,  one 
should  seek  to  put  on  the  tinsel  at  the  expense 
of  others, —  to  build,  and  furnish,  and  decorate, 
when,  as  yet,  there  was  no  real  foundation  for 


TRIALS  —  HOV   TO    BE   MET.  113 

the  outlay,— how  soon  would  his  fair  fabric  be 
likely  to  give  way,  whilst  he  himself,  in  the 
hands  of  the  sheriff,  would  become  an  object  of 
pity  to  some,  and  of  scorn  and  contempt  to  others  ! 
More  than  half  the  misery  which  occurs  in  our 
business  circles  is  traceable  to  extravagance  in 
some  form.  It  comes  from  the  effort  of  men  to 
seem  to  be  what  they  really  are  not.  On  this 
reef  how  many  in  middle  life  have  made  ship- 
wreck of  their  earthly  hopes  ! 


THE    GREATEST   DANGER. 


Prosperity,  even  when  real,  is  not  without  its 
dangers.  Few  can  bear  it.  The  greatest  danger 
lies  in  the  moral  state  of  the  heart,  as  affected  by 
it.  Pride,  and  self-confidence,  and  conscious 
independence,  are  results  which  push  the  soul  out 
of  the  circle  of  influences  so  necessary  to  its  sal- 
vation. Worldly  prosperity  has  many  times 
proved  the  way  to  everlasting  ruin,  rendering 
the  soul  obtuse  to  all  gospel  influences,  shutting 
against  it  the  door  of  hope,  or  making  it  as  dif- 
ficult of  entrance  almost  as  for  "  a  camel  to  go 
10* 


114  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

through  a  needle's  eye."  What  a  startling 
inquiry  was  that  which  our  Saviour  makes,  in- 
dicating the  danger  of  worldly  prosperity, 
especially  as  it  relates  to  the  possession  of  riches, 
"  how  hardly  shall  they  that  have  riches  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  God !  "  Yes  ;  and  that 
other,  if  possible,  still  more  startling  query, 
"  what  shall  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  gain  the  whole 
world,  and  lose  his  own  soul  1 "  The  shipwreck 
of  fortune,  what  is  it  to  the  loss  eternally  of  the 
soul  ?  Says  a  writer  *  already  quoted,  and  one 
who  will  not  be  accused  of  cant,  discoursing  on 
the  moral  insensibility  which  worldly  prosperity 
is  apt  to  engender,  "  Those  who  are  sheltered! 
from  the  various  perils  of  poverty  begin  to  for- 
get the  precarious  tenure  of  worldly  enjoyments, 
and  to  build  sumptuously  on  the  *  sand.  They 
put  their  trust,  as  the  Psalmist  says,  in  chariots 
and  horses,  and  dream  they  shall  live  forever  in 
those  palaces  which  are  but  the  out-houses  of 
the  grave.  There  are  very  few  men,  in  fact, 

*  Sydney  Smith. 


TRIALS  —  HOW   TO    BE   MET.  115 

•who  are  capable  of  withstanding  the  constant 
effect  of  artificial  distinctions.  It  is  difficult  to 
live  upon  a  throne,  and  to  think  of  a  tomb.  It 
is  difficult  to  be  clothed  in  splendor,  and  to 
remember  we  are  dust.  It  is  difficult  for  the 
rich  and  the  prosperous  to  keep  their  hearts  as  a 
burning  coal  upon  the  altar,  and  to  humble  them- 
selves before  God  as  they  rise  before  men.  In 
the  mean  time,  while  pride  gathers  in  the  heart, 
the  angel  is  ever  writing  in  the  book,  and  wrath 
is  ever  mantling  in  the  cup.  Complain  not,  in 
the  season  of  woe,  that  you  are  parched  with 
thirst !  ask  not  for  water,  as  Dives  asked !  you 
have  a  warning  which  he  never  had.  There 
stand  the  ever-memorable  words,  "It  is  easier 
for  a  camel  to  go  through  a  needle's  eye  than  for 
a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God," 
to  break  down  the  stateliness  of  man,  and  dissi- 
pate the  pageantry  of  the  earth.  Thus  it  is  that 
the  few  words  of  God  can  make  the  purple  of  the 
world  appear  less  beautiful  than  the  mean 
garments  of  a  beggar,  and,  striking  terror  into 
the  he«u'ts  of  rulers,  turn  the  banners  of  dominion 


116  THE   VOTAGE   OF  LIFE. 

to  the  ensigns  of  death,  and  make  them  shudder 
at  the  sceptre  -which  they  wield.  To-day  you 
are  clothed  in  linen  and  fare  sumptuously  ;  in  a 
few  and  evil  years,  they  shall  hew  you  out  a 
tomb  of  marble  whiter  than  snow,  and  the  cun- 
ning artifice  of  the  workman  shall  grave  upon  it 
weeping  angels,  and  make  a  delicate  image  of 
one  fleeing  up  to  heaven,  as  if  it  were  there ;  and 
shall  relate  in  golden  letters  the  long  story  of 
your  honors  and  your  birth, —  thou  fool !  !  He 
that  dieth  by  the  road-side  for  the  lack  of  a 
morsel  of  bread,  God  loveth  him  as  well  as  he 
loveth  thee;  and  at  the  gates  of  heaven,  and 
from  the  blessed  angels,  thou  shalt  learn  that 
"it  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through  the  eye 
of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaven." 

MANHOOD  A  PEKIOD   OF   GREAT   INFLUENCE. 

Human  life  culminates  at  forty  or  forty-five. 
Henceforward  it  moves  as  on  a  sort  of  table- 
land until  sixty  or  sixty-five,  and  then  ordinarily 
declines. 


TRIALS — 110  W   TO    BE   MET.  117 

The  period  of  greatest  personal  influence  is 
usually  assigned  to  manhood,  embracing  a  space 
somewhat  indeterminate  between  youth  and  old 
age. 

Those  in  the  field  will  not  yield  to  the  pruri- 
ent demands  of  youth.  Influence  is  of  slow 
growth,  and  young  men  must  take  their  turn. 
Time  will  soon  make  room  for  them,  when,  after 
a  brief  struggle,  they  also  must  give  place  to 
others. 

It  is  astonishing  how  small  a  portion  of  ex- 
istence is  available  for  the  stirring  events  of  life. 
The  preparation  season  is  long,  extending  from 
infancy  to  manhood,  a  period  of  over  twenty 
years.  Few  are  actually  introduced  to  the 
great  arena  before  twenty ;  and  even  then 
personal  influence,  for  a  long  time,  is  but  gradu- 
ally augmenting  and  acquiring  breadth.  How 
soon  after  it  has  reached  its  zenith  does  it  begin 
to  decline  !  They  who  struggled  side  by  side  for 
fame,  power,  or  riches,  are  obliged  in  a  wonder- 
fully short  space  of  time  to  give  place  to  other 
and  succeeding  competitors.  "  He  has  seen  his 


118  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

best  days,"  is  a  declaration  that  sometimes 
startles  the  man  who  had  supposed  himself  still 
in  the  vigor  of  manhood. 

Such  being  the  case, —  human  influence  being 
thus  of  slow  growth  and  of  short  duration, — what 
is  to  be  done  for  the  generation  in  which  we  live, 
for  those  who  are  with  us  or  who  are  to  come 
after  us,  must  be  done  with  energy  and  despatch. 

How  impressive,  in  this  view,  is  the  admonition 
of  one  who  took  a  careful  survey  of  life's  duties 
and  responsibilities  !  —  "  Whatsoever  thy  hand 
findeth  to  do,  do  with  thy  might." 

The  stream  on  which  we  are  embarked,  com- 
mencing in  the  slow  and  placid  current  that 
flows  around  the  cradle-scenes  of  existence,  and 
then,  gathering  force,  sparkles  and  leaps  along  in 
the  juvenile  period  of  buoyant  hope  and  wild 
delight,  at  length  deepens  into  the  strong  current 
of  manhood,  and  rushes  onward  with  almost  ter- 
rific rapidity,  until  at  last  it  spreads  away  into  a 
darkening  estuary,  and  a  still  more  distant  ocean, 
emblematical  of  that  subsiding  and  hazy  term  of 


TRIALS  —  HOW    TO    BE   MET.  119 

life,  when  the  weakness  of  ago  is  setting  towards 
the  misty  and  awful  future. 

How  the  picture  speaks  to  our  hopes  and  to 
our  fears  !  How  the  rushing  tide  of  existence 
warns  us  to  steer  for  the  haven  of  peace  and 
safety !  How  the  impetuous  flood  bids  us  do 
what  we  have  got  to  do  with  our  might  ! 

If  any  man  is  dreaming  of  a  time  when  he  will 
construct  some  novel  and  important  piece  of 
mechanism,  or  when  he  will  write  some  valuable 
treatise,  or  lay  the  foundation  for  some  charitable 
institution,  as  a  perennial  source  of  good  to  body 
or  mind,  let  him  understand  that  time  and  death 
and  advancing  age  all  cry  out.  "  Be  at  it;  do  it 
at  once,  and  without  delay  !  " 

The  season  for  efficient  action  comes  late,  runs 
off  rapidly,  and  is  gone.  Whilst  we  are  plan- 
ning and  anticipating,  resolving  and  purposing, 
lo  !  the  knell  of  time  rings  out  our  destiny  ;  and 
we  go  into  decrepitude  or  death,  ere  the  half  of 
life's  projected  plans  are  even  begun. 

If  such  a  fatality  attend  us  as  it  respects  our 
earthly  hopes  and  wishes,  what  shall  we  say  of 


120  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

the  multitudes  who  live  on  the  purpose  of  repent- 
ance,—  are  always  intending  to  find  time  to  set 
their  house  in  order,  and  get  ready  for  their 
departure, —  who  resolve  and  re-resolve  that  at 
no  distant  day  religion  shall  claim  their  serious 
and  undivided  attention ;  but  who,  alas !  find 
themselves  surprised  into  the  awful  reality,  on 
the  brink  of  death,  in  its  very  last  article  and 
agony,  without  the  least  preparation  for  its 
solemn  issues  ?  What  shall  be  said  of  such  ? 


CHAPTER    VI. 

OLD   AGE. 

WHAT  marks  the  period  of  old  age,  or  where 
is  the  boundary  between  it  and  manhood  7  Who 
can  define  the  exact  point  where  it  begins  ?  So 
gradually  does  the  stream  set  towards  this  state  of 
weakness  and  incapacity,  that  few  are  observant 
of  its  approach ;  and  many  deny  its  existence, 
even  when  to  others  the  indications  are  clear  and 
unmistakable.  The  first  gray  hair  is  plucked 
out  without  exciting  any  surprise,  but,  ere  long, 
the  process  of  eradication  is  given  up  in  despair  ; 
for  nature  outruns  the  effort,  and  the  head  is 
seen  blossoming  all  over  like  the  almond-tree. 
The  first  wrinkle  that  streaks  the  forehead,  or 
which  time  plants  at  the  angle  of  the  eye,  is 
scarcely  noticed ;  but  how  soon  does  that  old 
hour-glass  bearer  multiply  these  furrows,  and 
steal  the  crimson  from  that  cheek  !  It  is  in  vain 
11 


122  THE   VOYAGE   OF   LIFE. 

to  attempt  to  cheat  ourselves  into  the  idea  of 
perpetuity.  The  eye  will  not  see  as  clearly  as 
ones  it  did  :  and  the  effort  to  coax  the  hair  over 
the  naked  brow,  or  to  conceal  its  baldness  by  a 
wig,  will  neither  deceive  ourselves  or  others  into 
the  belief  that  we  are  as  young  as  once  we  were. 

Nevertheless,  there  is  a  vast  difference  among 
men  as  to  the  time  when  physical  sti-ength  and 
beauty  —  if  the  term  beauty  may  be  applied  to 
men  —  begin  to  decline.  Some  appear  quite  old 
at  fifty,  and  some  look  hale  and  vigorous  at 
sixty.  Some  ripen  soon,  and  soon  decay  ;  others 
gather  slowly,  and  hold  on  long.  Sickness,  care, 
intense  study,  anxiety  long  continued,  and  excess- 
ive bodily  labor,  have  their  effect  in  imprinting 
the  tokens  of  decay  on  the  physical  man.  By 
these  wearing  and  wasting  influences,  a  compara- 
tively young  man  will  sometimes  look  old  ;  and, 
exempted  from  them,  an  old  man  will  sometimes 
wear  almost  the  aspect  of  youth. 

A  few  years,  however,  will  suffice  to  set  the 
question  at  rest,  to  stamp  the  body  with  a  sig- 


OLD    AGE.  123 

nature  which  all  \vill  recognize,  and  to  point  the 
index-finger  in  a  direction  which  all  understand. 

THE   LAST   PICTUEK. 

Behold  that  venerable  figure  seated  in  the 
stern  of  the  fairy-vessel,  looking  upward,  and 
catching  with  his  dim  eye  those  glorious  forms 
which  stream  along  that  bright  avenue  to  which 
the  guardian  angel  points  ! 

To  adopt  the  artist's  own  language,  "  Porten- 
tous clouds  are  brooding  over  a  vast  and  mid- 
night ocean.  A  few  barren  rocks  are  seen 
through  the  gloom, —  the  last  shores  of  the 
world.  These  form  the  mouth  of  the  river,  and 
the  boat,  shattered  by  storms,  its  figures  of  the 
hours  broken  and  drooping,  is  seen  gliding  over 
the  deep  waters.  Directed  by  the  guardian 
spirit  who  thus  far  has  accompanied  him  unseen, 
the  voyager,  now  an  old  man,  looks  upward  to 
an  opening  in  the  clouds,  from  whence  a  glorious 
light  bursts  forth,  and  angels  are  seen  descending 
the  cloudy  steps,  as  if  to  welcome  him  to  the 
haven  of  immortal  life. 


124  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

"  The  stream  of  life  has  now  reached  the 
ocean  to  which  all  life  is  tending.  The  world  to 
old  age  is  destitute  of  interest.  There  is  no 
longer  any  green  thing  upon  it.  The  broken 
and  drooping  figures  of  the  boat  show  that  time 
ig  nearly  ended.  The  chains  of  corporeal  ex- 
istence are  falling  away,  and  already  the  mind 
has  glimpses  of  immortal  life.  The  angelic 
being,  of  whose  presence  until  now  the  voyager 
has  been  unconscious,  is  revealed  to  him ;  and, 
with  a  countenance  beaming  with  joy,  shows  to 
his  wondering  gaze  scenes  such  as  mortals  have 
never  yet  seen." 

There  is  a  pathetic  tone,  a  touching  sublimity, 
in  this  scene,  which  makes  us  look  upon  it  with 
seriousness  and  self-application,  as  if  we  saw  in 
it  a  type  of  our  own  hastening  end.  The  lights 
and  shades  are  here  put  in  strong  contrast. 
Death  and  immortality  are  brought  into  close 
proximity.  That  dark  estuary,  and  that  still 
darker  ocean,  stretching  to  a  shoreless  distance, 
emblematical  of  eternity ;  those  rocks,  reflecting 
on  their  serried  brow  the  light  that  gleams  over 


OLD   AGE.  125 

them,  and  gilds  them  as  with  a  departing  ray  ; 
the  boat  shorn  of  its  original  splendor,  its  winged 
hours  almost  torn  from  its  sides,  its  prow  bat- 
tered, and  the  hour-glass  gone  from  it ;  the  old 
man  of  hoary  head  and  beard,  no  longer  stand- 
ing but  sitting, —  these  all  proclaim  that  the  end 
is  drawing  nigh. 

But.  lo !  the  clouds  have  opened,  and  a  light 
from  the  third  heavens  is  streaming  down  and 
resting  on  the  darkness  below.  In  this  terraced 
way  to  glory  may  be  seen  troops  of  angels  bright. 
—  messengers  of  love  and  mercy,  —  throwing 
themselves  forward  on  their  wings,  as  if  eager  to 
execute  the  commission  assigned  to  them.  The 
guardian  angel  reappearing,  and  directing  the 
eye  of  the  voyager  to  these  bright  companions, 
—  all  these  show  that,  as  the  "  earthly  house  of 
man's  tabernacle  "  is  dissolving,  there  is  reserved 
for  him,  if  a  Christian,  "a  house  not  made 
•with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens." 

But,  dismissing  the  picture,  or  only  keeping  it 
in  view  as  the  guide  of  our  thoughts,  we  will 
indulge  in  some  reflections  on  the  condition  of 
11* 


126  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

the  old  man,  his  joys,  his  trials  and  his  pros- 
pects, which,  we  hope,  may  be  profitable  to  the 
reader,  whatever  be  his  age.  If  old,  he  will  be 
likely  now  to  sympathize  with  them ;  and  if 
young,  he  may  be  sure  that,  ere  long,  should  life 
be  not  abruptly  terminated,  he,  too,  will  feel  and 
acknowledge  their  application. 

OLD   AGE ITS    JOTS   AND   TRIAI3. 

Old  age  has  both  its  joys  and  its  trials.  If 
the  battle  of  life  has  been  fought  and  won, —  if 
success  has  crowned  the  efforts  of  manhood,  and 
a  worldly  competency  be  enjoyed, —  who  can 
doubt  that  a  high  degree  of  satisfaction  may  be 
felt,  even  in  advanced  life?  We  have  seen  old 
men  apparently  happy  even  under  the  pressure 
of  bodily  pains  and  infirmities ;  the  wrinkled 
brow  relaxing  into  a  smile,  and  the  eye  lighted 
up  with  a  benevolent  joy. 

Old  men  seem  to  live  over  their  lives  in  their 
descendants.  When  their  own  joys  are  failing, 
they  fill  their  cup  out  of  the  spring  which  bub- 
bles up  in  their  track.  They  seem  to  forget 


OLD    AGE.  127 

their  infirmities  in  the  participated  relish  which 
is  shared  by  those  of  their  kindred  who  surround 
them. 

The  aged  father  lives  in  the  life  of  a  favorite 
son.  If  the  boy  ripens  into  promising  manhood, 
and  that  manhood  be  characterized  by  honor  and 
success,  the  father  is  reconciled  to  personal  inat- 
tention or  public  neglect,  whilst  he  calmly  enjoys 
the  growing  reputation  of  his  child. 

The  affections,  also,  are  strongly  developed 
towards  the  little  ones  of  a  third  generation. 
They  are  his  as  much  and  as  truly  as  were  his 
own  children.  With  less  responsibility  in  their 
training,  less  care  and  anxiety  respecting  them, 
there  is  scarcely  less  affection  towards  them. 
Indeed,  sometimes  it  would  seem  as  if  there  was 
a  somewhat  more  tender  and  indulgent  love  than 
under  the  sterner  circumstances  which  modify 
the  merely  parental  relation.  The  grandsire, 
with  his  children's  children,  looking  confidingly 
into  his  face,  clambering  on  his  knee,  offering 
their  assistance  to  his  tottering  steps,  amusing 
him  with  their  gambols,  interesting  him  in  their 


128  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

juvenile  sports,  and  thus  almost  compelling  him 
to  be  young  again,  is  surely  not  an  object  of  pity, 
but  of  congratulation.  The  setting  sun  is  not 
more  bright  and  serene  often  than  is  he.  A  more 
radiant  picture  can  hardly  be  set  in  the.  frame  of 
human  observation  than  one  which  places  the 
old  man  in  the  midst  of  his  descendants  ;  having 
discharged  his  duty  faithfully  to  them,  and  won 
their  respect  and  love,  whilst  severally  and  col- 
lectively they  are  vying  with  each  other  in 
offices  of  kindness  towards  him,  —  an  old 
Anchises,  as  it  were,  with  .ZEneas  and  his  family, 
ready  even  to  hazard  their  own  lives,  in  order  to 
preserve  that  of  their  beloved  sire, —  what  could 
be  more  beautiful,  and  where  can  happiness  be 
found,  if  not  amid  such  a  group  ? 

But  there  is  a  higher  source  of  enjoyment 
even  than  this.  The  old  man  may  have  within 
his  breast  the  anchor  of  hope,  and  in  his  eye  the 
crown  of  everlasting  life.  He  may  have  all  the 
matured  graces  of  the  Christian,  rendering  him 
as  "a  shock  of  corn,  fully  ripe  in  its  season." 
Having  sailed  through  stormy  seas,  he  may  have 


OLD    AGE.  129 

reached  the  opening  port  of  a  calm  and  cloudless 
immortality.  His  hoary  head  may  be  encircled 
•with  a  crown  of  righteousness,  to  be  rewarded, 
ere  long,  with  the  crown  of  glory  which  fadeth 
not  away. 

Beautiful  is  the  sight  of  age  wedded  to 
religion,  supporting  itself  on  her  arm,  comforted 
by  her  consolations,  cheered  by  her  hopes  of 
glory  !  To  see  the  pilgrim  thus,  leaning  on  a 
staff  which  no  vicissitudes  of  earth  can  break, 
and  travelling  in  a  road  which  grows  more  fra- 
grant as  the  sun  is  setting  and  the  dews  are 
falling,-  the  night  gathering  and  the  stars 
coming  forth, —  how,  in  view  of  him,  can  we  feel 
any  other  sentiment  than  that  of  cheerfulness  ! 
How  can  we  use  any  language  towards  him,  but 
that  of  congratulation ! 

Aged  Christian  !  travel  on,  with  a  smile  on 
thy  brow,  towards  thy  home  in  the  skies ! 
Mourn  not  that  thy  path  on  earth  is  growing 
dark,  if  the  light  above  thee  and  within  thee  is 
deepening !  Sigh  not  because  earthly  bliss  is  less 
enjoyed,  if  thy  relish  for  divine  things  is  but 


130  THE   VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

increasing !  Indulge  not  a  thought  of  regret, 
that  you  must  soon  say  to  earth  farewell,  pro- 
vided you  are  drawing  nearer,  and  still  nearer,  to 
your  eternal  home  ! 

THE   OTHER   SIDE   OF    THE   PICTURE. 

But  the  picture  of  a  happy  old  age  is  not,  per- 
haps, a  very  common  one.  Hence  the  experience 
of  mankind  has  assigned  to  that  period  more 
trials  than  joys.  How  often  do  we  hear  one  and 
another  express  the  wish  that  he  "  may  not  live 
to  be  old,"  which  hope  or  wish,  if  sincere, —  we 
many  times  doubt  its  sincerity, —  goes'  to  show 
that,  in  the  general  estimation,  it  is  an  undesir- 
able condition  of  existence.  Why  is  the  wish  of 
an  earlier  exit  out  of  the  world  expressed,  unless 
it  be  that  old  age  is  looked  upon  as  a  misfortune, 
a  dreaded  remnant  of  life,  useful  for  nothing,  and 
a  burden  to  surviving  friends  ? 

We  have,  indeed,  seen  instances  of  longevity, 
•where  the  evils  were  so  many  and  the  good  so 
little,  that  one  might  be  pardoned  for  deprecat- 


OLD    AGE.  131 

ing,  under  similar  circumstances,  a  prolonged 
existence. 

An  old  man.  for  example,  in  abject  poverty 
and  dependence,  with  none  to  provide  for  him 
and  none  to  pity  him,  depending  on  the  coarse 
and  cold  and  official  charity  which  the  public  may 
have  provided,  is  an  object  simply  of  commisera- 
tion. Such  a  close  of  life's  wearisome  voyage  is 
surely  to  be  deprecated.  Who  would  not  pray, 
"  From  such  evils,  0  Lord,  deliver  us  !" 

An  old  man,  who  has  the  misfortune  to  have 
ungrateful  children,  undutiful  as  children,  and, 
when  arrived  at  manhood,  hard-hearted  and 
without  natural  affection,  seeing  these  children 
indifferent  to  his  welfare,  practising  towards  him 
marked  neglect,  wishing  him  out  of  the  way, 
wishing  him  dead,  supplying  his  wants  with  a 
niggardly  stint,  and  looking  on  him  from  day  to 
day  as  a  mere  incumbrance. —  such  an  old  man 
goes  heavily  and  heart-broken  towards  the  grave. 
Who  could  be  blamed  for  wishing  to  escape  the 
tender  mercies  of  such  parricidal  hands  1 

One  who  has  led  a  life  of  vicious  indulgence, — • 


132  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

whose  passions  survive  often  after  the  ability  to 
gratify  them  is  gone, — an  old,  worn-out  sensualist, 
whose  beastly  propensities  are  still  visible  amid 
the  wreck  of  his  physical  powers, —  bloated  in 
countenance,  tottering  in  gait,  breaking  forth 
occasionally  with  some  coarse  or  obscene  allu- 
sion,— a  carcass  almost,  it  would  seem,  without  a 
soul, —  such  an  one  is  a  horrible  excrescence, 
awaiting  only  the  stroke  of  an  apoplexy  or 
palsy,  or  possibly  delirium  tremens,  to  send  him 
to  a  doom  for  which,  even  if  eternal,  his  charac- 
ter and  his  crimes  have  fitted  him.  "In  fact,'5 
says  Sydney  Smith,  "  the  old  age  which  has 
raised  all  this  terror  is  the  old  age  of  sin  ;  it  is 
the  spectacle  of  young  and  ungoverned  passions 
in  a  perishing  body ;  of  a  man  giving  up  the 
world  by  his  trembling  limbs,  giving  it  up  by  his 
wasting  strength,  and  clinging  to  it  with  all  the 
appetites  of  his  heart ;  a  man  marked  deeply  by 
time,  and  with  thoughts  busied  about  the  mortal 
pleasures  of  sin :  to  such  a  man  old  age  is,  indeed, 
terrible ;  for  it  is  a  mark  of  the  coming  vengeance 
of  God ;  the  pains  and  evils  of  the  body  are  to 


OLD    AGE.  183 

him  signs  that  his  eternal  punishment  is  near  at 
hand,  that  he  is  standing  in  the  threshold  to  the 
place  of  torment.  I  am  not  endeavoring  to  prove 
that  this  old  age  is  not  terrible.  It  is,  indeed, 
the  greatest  of  human  terrors ;  and,  though  the 
three-score  and  ten  years  may  first  pass  away, 
yet  the  knowledge  that  it  must  come  at  last 
shoots  across  the  horizon  of  life,  and  mingles  the 
terror  of  God  with  the  early  pleasures  of  youth." 

It  is  in  view  of  such  cases, —  including,  per- 
haps, some  where  the  individual  was  merely 
burdensome,  without  being  degraded  or  despised, 
—  that  the  wish  for  an  earlier  death  has  been 
uttered.  But  those  who  thus  speak,  who  so 
recklessly  express  their  wishes,  can  have  no  just 
appreciation  of  the  relations  which  man  sustains 
to  the  present  and  the  future  world. 

God  has  .appointed  the  lot  of  man,  numbered 
his  days,  set  the  bounds  of  his  earthly  habitation. 
It  ill  becomes  any  of  his  creatures  to  wish  either 
to  overleap  that  boundary,  or  to  anticipate  it  by  an 
•early  death.  "  Our  times,"  including  the  end 
•of  our  time  on  earth,  are  all  "in  his  hand." 
12 


184  THE   VOYAGE    OF  LIFE. 

His  wisdom  has  appointed  them,  and  his  power 
•will  see  that  they  are  fulfilled.  Should  his  pur- 
pose be  that  I  shall  reach  three-score  and  ten,  or 
should  he  give  me  strength  to  see  even  four- 
score years,  it  would  ill  become  me  to  complain, 
because  I  might  foresee  some  possible  evils  to- 
•which  my  longevity  would  expose  me.  Resig- 
nation to  the  divine  will  is  as  much  a  duty  when 
the  continuance  as  when  the  termination  of  life 
is  concerned.  If  it  be  a  calamity  to  die  in  early 
manhood, —  as  will  generally  be  conceded, —  and 
an  equal  or  greater  calamity  to  drag  out  an  ex- 
istence until  eighty  or  ninety,  why  should  we  not 
be  as  submissive  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other  1 
In  neither  is  it  our  right  to  complain.  Taking 
one  view  of  human  life,  we  might  say,  with  Job, 
"I  would  not  live  alway;"  but,  with  the  same 
patient  patriarch,  we  should  add,  "all  the  days 
of  my  appointed  time  will  I  wait  until  my 
change  come." 

OTHER  REASONS  WHY  OLD   AGE   19   DREADED. 

Neglect  is  one  reason  why  old  age  is  dreaded. 


OLD    AGE.  135 

We  all  shrink  from  this,  as  implying  uselessness 
and  decay.  The  old  are  particularly  sensitive  to 
neglect,  as  they  are  peculiarly  exposed  to  it.  The 
young  sympathize  with  the  young.  Those  in 
middle  life  are  so  absorbed  in  the  daily  conflict, 
that  they  can  scarcely  pause,  even  if  inclined,  to 
give  the  expected  recognition  and  the  respectful 
attention  which  are  due  to  the  aged.  The 
offices  of  life,  the  business  of  life,  its  plans  and 
projects,  are,  for  the  most  part,  divided  among  the 
young  and  the  middle-aged.  Between  such, 
intercourse  is  not  only  natural,  but  even  necessary. 
They  are  so  related,  so  dependent  upon  each 
other,  as  to  require  a  very  frequent  intercommu- 
nication. But  the  old  man  is  turned  aside.  He- 
has  worked  out  his  day,  and  by  common  consent 
he  has  his  discharge.  Hence  one  must  go  out 
of  the  way  to  meet  him,  and  to  pay  him  those 
respectful  attentions  which  his  age  and  his  stand- 
ing demand. 

To  guard  against  this  neglect,  the  Scriptures 
have  enjoined  on  the  young  special  and  profound 
respect  towards  the  aged.  ' '  Thou  shalt  rise  up 


136  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

before  the  hoary  head,  and  honor  the  face  of  the 
old  man,  and  fear  thy  God, —  I  am  the  Lord." 
In  this,  as  in  all  the  other  enactments  of  the 
divine  word,  we  discover  a  wisdom  as  happy  in 
its  bearings  on  the  individual  as  it  is  useful  in  its 
influence  on  the  state ;  and  blessed  will  that 
period  be3  if  it  ever  should  arrive,  when  shall  be 
felt  and  expressed  by  the  young  generally  a 
respect  for  honorable  old  age  ! 

But  let  not  the  aged  complain  because  they 
are  set  aside, — as  in  the  arrangements  of  active 
life  they  are  very  apt  to  be, —  let  them  not  com- 
plain at  this.  They  have  had  their  day  and 
their  turn ;  and,  as  wave  follows  wave,  others  are 
now  coming  into  their  places,  exercising  their 
functions,  doing  their  work,  and  of  right  reaping 
their  rewards.  They  cannot  be  always  young 
and  strong  and  attractive.  They  cannot  have 
the  same  efficiency  in  old  age  as  they  had  in 
their  ripened  manhood.  So  God  and  nature  have 
ordained.  As  they  look  at  those  who  seem  to  be 
crowding  them  aside,  and  occupying  their  posts 
of  influence,  let  them  calmly  and  contentedly 


OLD    AGE.  137 

give  place.  Those  who  are  now  their  juniors,  so 
ardent,  so  athletic  and  so  aspiring,  will,  in  a  few 
years,  have  themselves  to  quit,  and  go  into  the 
same  paths  of  stillness  and  obscurity. 

You  have  been  accustomed,  perhaps,  to  shine 
in  conversation  ;  to  draw  around  you  a  circle  of 
admirers ;  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  passer-by,  as 
presenting  a  form  of  manly  beauty :  to  be  hailed, 
perhaps,  as  the  centre  of  influence  and  attraction. 
All  this,  however,  must  go  and  be  given  up,  as 
the  indices  of  advancing  age  and  infirmity  creep 
over  the  mind  and  body.  Others  must  jostle 
you  aside  in  these  respects,  and  you  must  be 
content  to  totter  on  towards  the  end  with  less 
and  less  attention*  from  the  world.  Is  it  hard  ? 
No  ;  not  if  things  be  rightly  viewed ;  not,  espec- 
ially, if  in  time  you  have  seen  the  vanity  of  so 
foolish  an  ambition,  the  emptiness  of  so  meagre 
a  portion,  the  dryness  of  so  broken  a  cistern  ! 
If  you  have  found  a  staff  to  lean  upon,  such  as 
religion  gives,  you  may  bid  defiance  to  all  these 
changes,  mortifications  and  disappointments,  and 
travel  on  to  the  last  earthly  limit  with  a  calm 
12* 


138  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

and  steady  pace,  and  with  a  countenance  lighted 
up  from  above.  Do  you  fear  the  decay  of  your 
powers,  and  the  consequent  diminution  of  your 
usefulness?  Does  that  idea,  "My  joys  are 
gone,"  haunt  you?  If  your  aim  has  been  to 
please  the  flesh,  and  that  only,  you  may  well  be 
grieved  as  the  senses  grow  dull,  and  the  power 
of  gratification  becomes  less  and  less ;  or,  if  the 
smiles  of  human  favor  have  been  all  the  sun- 
light that  has  warmed  your  heart,  you  may  well 
mourn  when  it  is  withdrawn.  Miserable  old 
man,  if  these  sources  of  good  alone  have  been 
open  to  thee !  What  is  left,  when  these  are 
gone  ?  — and  gone  they  will  be,  when  old  age  has 
come. 

But  this  very  decay  of  the  physical  powers  is 
to  the  Christian  a  signal  of  ultimate  and  com- 
plete victory.  Nature,  in  this,  comes  to  the  aid 
of  grace,  or  rather  works  in  unison  with  it ;  and 
he  who  had  struggled  hard  and  successfully 
against  the  flesh  in  early  life  has  in  old  age  a 
still  easier  victory,  when  that  flesh  has  lost  much 
of  its  polluting  power. 


,  OLD   AGE.  139 

And  now  that  the  world,  of  its  own  accord, 
is  withdrawing  from  him,  offering' its  prizes  to 
others  rather  than  to  him,  how  much  easier  will 
it  be  for  him,  calling  faith  to  his  aid,  to  overcome 
the  world  ! 

The  Christian  can  hid  the  world  adieu  in 
feeling  long  before  he  is  separated  from  it  by 
the  actual  stroke  of  death.  His  growing  incapac- 
ity for  sensual  enjoyment  renders  his  relish  for 
that  which  is  spiritual  all  the  keener.  No  sigh 
need  he  send  back  after  a  world  which  has  « 
proved,  by  its  allurements,  its  cares  and  its 
temptations,  his  greatest  hindrance  in  the  path 
to  heaven.  Why,  with  the  port  in  view, —  the 
haven  of  rest  which  he  has  so  long  desired, — 
should  he  wish  to  put  back  upon  the  stormy 
deep,  and  take  his  chance  again  amid  its  vicissi- 
tudes and  its  perils  1  Let  the  world  neglect 
him, —  all  the  better  for  him  !  He  is  left  thus  at 
greater  leisure  to  set  his  house  in  order,  and  to 
prepare  for  his  exit  to  a  better  world.  He  gets 
into  a  more  tranquil  current,  which  sets  strongly 
towards  the  opening  vista, —  so  beautifully  pic- 


140  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

tured  in  the  scene  before  us, —  where  the  light  is 
breaking  forth,  and  the  angels  are  coming  into 
view,  and  all  the  calm  scenery  of  heaven  is 
unfolding,  with  no  more  rapids  to  dread,  no  more 
storms  to  encounter,  but  one  pure  and  beaming 
vision  of  blessedness  rising  on  the  enraptured 
soul,  and  indemnifying  it,  a  thousand  times  over, 
for  the  loss  of  all  things  earthly. 


USELESSXESS. 


Terrible  is  the  idea  of  outliving  his  usefulness, 
to  an  energetic,  stirring  man,  who  finds  his 
felicity  in  action, —  especially  in  those  acts  and 
labors  which  have  a  direct  tendency  to  advance 
the  cause  of  science,  or  promote  the  welfare  of 
mankind.  This  to  him  is  worse  than  neglect,  as 
being,  in  fact,  the  cause  of  it.  But  let  us  dwell 
on  this  point  a  little. 

It  is  not  denied  that  for  one  to  outlive  his 
usefulness  must  be  a  sore  trial.  At  the  bare 
thought  of  it,  the  benevolent  and  sensitive  heart 
recoils.  But  there  are  many  thoughts  connected 
with  this  apprehension  which  it  may  not  be  amiss 


OLD    AGE.  141 

for  the  writer  to  utter,  nor  unprofitable  for  the 
reader  seriously  to  consider. 

The  first  thought  that  I  would  suggest  is,  that 
old  age  is  a  condition  of  existence  ordered  by 
Providence  in  respect  to  a  certain  number  of  his 
creatures.  Should  it  be  our  lot,  it  is  not  for  us 
to  complain  either  at  the  appointment  or  at  the 
circumstances  which  may  attend  it.  We  are 
bound  to  put  our  trust  in  God,  and  to  believe, 
that,  having  guided  us  by  his  counsel,  and  sus- 
tained us  by  his  providence,  he  will  not,  "  when 
we  are  old  and  gray-headed,  forsake  us." 

But  what  right  have  any  to  suppose  that,  if 
continued  to  old  age,  they  will  necessarily 
become  useless  ?  Leave  that  where  it  ought  to 
be  left,  in  the  hands  of  God,  saying,  "  My  times 
are  in  thy  hand,  and  so  is  my  condition,  and  so 
is  my  destiny;  and,  0  Lord,  thy  will,  not 
mine,  be  done." 

THE  OLD   MAN'S   LAST   HIS   BEST  DATS. 

But  again,  it  is  possible  that  a  man  may  be  as 
useful  in  old  age  as  he  ever  was  when  young,  or 
in  middle  life. 


142  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

Some  waste  their  youth  in  mere  pleasure. 
They  live  only  to  themselves.  They  play  the 
part  of  a  profane  Esau,  and  sell  their  great 
birthright  for  a  sensual  dish.  Of  what  use  are 
such  to  society  ?  Some  carry  their  vicious 
habits  even  into  manhood.  All  they  care  for, 
even  then,  is  to  aggrandize  or  to  gratify  self. 
Avarice  may  lead  them  to  struggle  in  the  race 
of  fortune,  or  ambition  may  induce  them  to 
truckle  to  popular  prejudices  ;  and  in  these  pur- 
suits they  are  obliged  to  seem  to  be  useful  by  an 
outlay  of  energy  necessary  to  accomplish  their 
sordid  ends.  Indirectly,  and  without  aiming  at 
it,  they  may  thus  subserve  somewhat  the  good 
of  society.  But,  where  the  aim  and  motive  are 
so  supremely  selfish,  they  can  hardly  be  ranked 
as  benefactors  to  mankind. 

But,  supposing  that  in  the  latter  period  of  life, 
seeing  the  vanity  and  wickedness  of  their  course, 
such  persons  are.  by  God's  grace,  brought  to 
repentance ;  and  that,  instead  of  seeking,  as  here- 
tofore, only  to  please  and  aggrandize  self,  they 
adopt  a  new  principle  of  action,  and  begin  to  do 


OLD    AGE.  143 

all  things  for  the  glory  of  God, —  who  Avill  deny 
that  their  last  Jays  may  prove  to  be  their  best 
days?  They  may,  indeed,  have  to  mourn. —  as, 
if  their  repentance  be  sincere,  undoubtedly  they 
•will. —  that  so  much  of  life  has  been  wasted  in 
vain  pursuits,  and  that  so  small  a  remnant  is  left 
in  which  to  redeem  the  time ;  yet  surely  they 
will  be  grateful,  that  even  in  old  age,  at  the 
eleventh  hour  even,  they  may  be  engaged  as 
laborers  in  the  vineyard  of  the  Lord. 

And  some  Christians,  who  talk  much  of  useful- 
ness, may  possibly  be  mistaken  as  to  the  period 
when  it  will  become  most  apparent.  Can  they 
say,  amid  the  cares  and  strife  of  this  world,  from 
which  even  they  are  not  excused,  that  when  thus 
toiling,  and  giving  only  the  interstices  of  time 
directly  to  the  cause  of  religion,  they  are  really 
more  useful  than  when,  in  the  evening  of  life, 
with  less  of  earth's  burdens  pressing  upon  them, 
they  are  shedding  a  mild  and  hallowed  light 
around  them,  using  their  undivided  influence  in 
promoting  the  spiritual  welfare  of  others,  and 
employing  much  of  their  uninterrupted  leisure  in 


144  THE   VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

dressing  their  own  souls  for  heaven ;  can  they 
certainly  affirm  that  they  were  more  useful  in 
the  earlier  than  they  can  be  in  the  later  period 
of  their  Christian  labors  and  experience?  But 
this  also  we  must  leave  with  God. 

Talk  of  an  old  man  as  being  useless  !  It  is 
absurd.  It  need  not  be.  In  many  cases  — 
may  we  not  say  in  most  1  —  it  is  not.  With 
some,  as  we  have  been  assured,  it  is  the  period 
of  their  greatest  usefulness,  as  well  as  happiness. 
By  prior  neglect,  by  personal  vices,  by  indolence 
and  indulgence  in  earlier  life,  we  may,  indeed, 
make  it  a  sorrowful  portion  of  existence ;  but  is 
it  necessarily  so  1  The  experience  of  thousands 
will  testify  to  the  contrary. 

A  VIKTUOtJS   AND   HONORABLE   OLD  AGE. 

Again ;  how  much  influence  can  a  man  exert, 
enjoying  a  virtuous  and  honorable  old  age,  by 
the  associations  connected  with  his  name  and  his 
labors !  His  countenance  is  a  book,  worn,  it  is 
true,  by  the  action  of  time,  yet  legible,  in  which 
we  may  read  the  history  of  the  past.  If  he  is 


OLD    AGE.  145 

not  able  now  to  wield  any  great  direct  influence, 
by  reason  of  increasing  infirmities,  why  should 
he  despond,  when,  by  a  life  of  industry  in  some 
honorable  calling,  by  past  efforts  successfully 
exerted  for  the  benefit  of  others,  he  has  left  an 
example,  which  is  all  the  more  influential  on 
account  of  his  continued  presence  among  men? 
He  is  a  pillar,  even  in  his  loneliness,  marking 
not  only  the  progress  of  time,  but  the  improve- 
ments of  the  age  to  which,  by  his  own  well- 
applied  energies,  he  may  have  more  or  less  con- 
tributed. 

THE   OU>   MERCHANT. 

"  Do  you  see  that  old  man,"  says  one,  "  so 
respectable  in  his  appearance,  with  hair  so  white 
and  countenance  so  bland,  to  whom,  as  he  passes 
along  the  busy  mart,  so  many  give  the  token 
of  respectful  homage? — Well,  that  man  has  been 
one  of  our  first  merchants.  He  was  always  an 
upright  and  honorable  man.  His  reputation  for 
honesty  was  as  great  as  his  skill  in  business  was 
successful.  He  was  the  model  merchant.  Hi3 
13 


146  THE   VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

opinions  are  now  quoted,  and  his  upright  exam- 
ple is  felt,  throughout  a  wide  circle  of  business 
men." 


Do  you  see  that  other  old  man  ?  —  He  was  a 
most  industrious  man.  Up  early  in  the  morning 
working  cheerfully  at  his  trade,  hammering  out 
a  living, — yea,  at  length  a  fortune, —  and  setting 
an  example  of  economy  as  well  as  industry ;  living 
within  his  means,  and  laying  up  something  for 
the  winter  of  life,  he  is  now,  in  his  advancing 
age,  an  object  of  interest  and  respect  to  his 
descendants  and  to  the  community. 

THE    MAN    OF   SCIENCE. 

And  that  one, — do  you  notice  him?  —  whose 
head  is  blanched  by  time,  but  whose  eye  is  still 
bright  with  the  fire  of  intelligence,  who  bears  in  his 
massive  features  the  lines  of  thought  and  the  seal 
of  true  dignity, —  is  he  not  sublime  even  in  his 
decline  1  That  is  a  man  who  has  toiled  over  the 
midnight  lamp,  and  has  raised  a  proud  column  in 


OLD    AGE.  147 

the  temple  of  science.  All  consent  to  honor  him. 
He  cannot  do  what  he  once  could.  Age  has  put 
its  paralyzing  hand  upon  him ;  but  nothing  can 
deprive  him  of  the  satisfaction  of  having  done 
something  for  his  race,  nor  of  the  homage  and 
respect  which  a  grateful  public  will  always  pay 
to  genius  or  high  intellect,  even  when  its  radiance 
has  been  dimmed  by  time. 

THE   STATESMAN. 

The  venerable  statesman  passes  before  us. 
His  steps  are  slow  and  feeble,  for  the  keepers  of 
the  house  have  begun  to  tremble.  He  speaks ; 
but  his  voice,  once  so  clear  and  ringing  like  a 
trumpet,  is  tremulous  and  weak.  Yet,  at  the 
sound  of  that  voice,  every  eye  is  fixed,  every  car 
attentive.  All  countenances  wear  an  expression 
of  deep  interest  and  respect.  That  man  is  ven- 
erated now,  as  aforetime  he  was  feared  and 
admired.  The  young  men  look  upon  him  as  a 
Nestor  in  experience  and  in  wisdom.  They  take 
knowledge  of  him  as  one  of  the  great  lights  of  the- 
age.  They  mark  his  career,  and  say,  Let  me  be 


148  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

as  he  has  been ;  let  me  serve  my  country  as  he 
has.  He  towers  among  men  as  the  aged  oak 
among  the  humbler  trees  of  the  forest.  His 
influence  and  usefulness  are  by  no  means  gone 
•with  age.  They  run  back  over  a  long  period, 
and  connect  his  venerable  form  with  stirring 
scenes  of  patriotic  interest,  in  which  the  wisdom 
of  his  counsels  or  the  thunders  of  his  eloquence 
contributed  to  the  welfare  of  the  state,  or  saved 
it  from  serious  detriment.  Is  it  sad  to  grow  old 
under  such  circumstances  ?  Is  usefulness  gone, 
•while  such  associations  are  clustering  around  the 
living  though  comparatively  broken  pillar  of  the 
state? 

THE   MINISTER. 

Rising  in  the  sacred  desk,  an  aged  servant  of 
God  appears  before  you,  with  head  silvered  o'er, 
with  a  countenance  calm,  even  majestic,  and  he 
speaks  in  tones  affectionate,  and  seemingly  pro- 
phetic. He  opens  the  Sacred  Book,  and  unfolds 
the  truth  in  language  plain,  and  by  illustrations 
the  most  simple.  He  seems  intent  only  on  the 
good  of  his  hearers.  All  show  and  parade  with 


OLD    AGE.  149 

him  have  long  since  been  dismissed ;  and  now,  as 
he  nears  his  home,  he  is  anxious  mainly  to  feed  the 
flock  of  Christ.  "Who  is  that  venerable  man?" 
is  the  inquiry.  He  seems  to  have  reached  almost 
the  end  of  his  earthly  journey.  How  benignant 
his  countenance,  how  affectionate  his  address,  how 
deep  his  experience !  Such  is  an  involuntary  testi- 
mony to  the  moral  worth  and  long -continued  labors 
of  one  who  has  spent  his  manhood  in  the  sub- 
lime work  of  preaching  the  everlasting  gospel. 
But  he  has  almost  done  his  work,  and  sometimes 
the  fear  will  haunt  him  that  his  usefulness  is  at 
an  end.  At  an  end  !  No ;  not  so  long  as  his 
example  gives  proof  of  the  power  and  purity  of 
the  gospel.  He  will  be  useful  while  there  is  a 
Christian  to  relish  his  counsels,  a  young  convert 
to  be  instructed  by  his  experience,  or  a  candidate 
for  the  ministry  to  study  his  life  and  labors.  His 
very  countenance  will  preach,  even  after  his  voice 

has  become  silent.      Such  a  man's   usefulness 

• 

cannot  end.  Age  cannot  destroy  it;  —  may  we 
not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  even  death  itself 

cannot? 

13* 


150  THE   VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

There  are  those,  we  are  aware,  who  are  inca- 
pable of  appreciating  the  rich  fruit  which  such  a 
man  bears ;  who  are  accustomed  to  call  him  dull, 
because,  forsooth,  he  flourishes  not  his  arms,  nor 
thunders  with  his  voice,  nor  deals  in  bombastic 
language,  nor  "  seeks  to  court  a  grin  when  he 
should  woo  a  soul;  "  there  are  such  weak-minded 
hearers,  such  unspiritual  souls,  ever  thirsting  for 
dramatic  entertainment,  rather  than  the  pure 
water  of  life.  But  let  the  aged  pastor,  for  his 
consolation,  remember  that  others. —  those  who 
love  the  truth  for  the  truth's  sake,  who  want  to 
be  fed  rather  than  amused, —  that  all  such  delight 
to  sit  at  his  feet,  and  learn  from  his  experience 
and  his  teaching  the  way  to  heaven.  They  can 
and  do  appreciate  his  worth.  One  sermon  drawn 
from  his  deep  experience,  and  his  familiarity  with 
divine  truth,  is  to  them  better,  far  better,  than 
the  beautiful  essay,  baptized  with  a  little  of  the 
waters  of  the  sanctuary,  —  just  enough,  or 
scarcely  enough,  to  give  it  the  name  of  a  sermon. 

The  old  minister  has  his  trials,  we  know ;  but 
has  he  not  also  his  consolations  and  his  reward  ? 


OLD    AGE.  151 

See  him,  even  when  no  longer  able  to  preach, 
—  when  infirmity  has  confined  him  to  his  study- 
chair, —  is  he  useless  even  then  ?  No,  in- 
deed !  His  life  is  a  perpetual  sermon,  and  all 
•who  are  observant  thereof  are  constantly  listen- 
ing to  it.  Men  go  to  him  for  counsel.  The 
aged  drop  in  to  get  some  useful  hint.  Upon  all, 
'•  his  words  drop  like  the  rain,  and  his  speech 
distilleth  as  the  dew."  His  very  presence  among 
men  exerts  a  conservative  influence ;  arid  his 
prayers,  which  cease  only  with  death,  are  as- 
cending continually  for  Zion,  and  for  Zion's 
friends, —  for  his  country,  and  for  the  world. 

How  sublime  a  picture,  to  see  the  patriarch  of 
four-score  moving  towards  the  promised  land, 
getting  within  sight  of  the  Jordan,  and  oc*casion- 
ally  ascending  some  Pisgah  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  outspread  glories  of  that  paradise  into 
which  he  is  so  soon  to  be  admitted  !  Talk  of 
buch  a  man's  being  useless  ! 


CHAPTER    VII. 

INCAPACITY   FOR   ENJOYMENT. 

THIS  is  another  object  of  dread,  which  makes 
certain  persons  wish  not  to  reach  an  extreme  old 
age.  "I  should  rather  die.  literally,"  say  they, 
"than  to  become  entombed  in  the  stillness  and  tur- 
pitude of  second  childhood.  Why  should  we  wish 
to  live,  when  all  life's  enjoyments  are  gone,  and 
all  capacity  even  for  enjoyment  is  extinct?"  Is 
such  language  proper,  even  admitting  the  conse- 
quences anticipated?  Are  we  not  bound,  I 
repeat,  to  submit  to  the  divine  decree  ?  But  the 
language  is  unjustifiable,  assuming,  as  it  does, 
that  extreme  old  age  is  invariably  bereft  of  all 
enjoyment.  That  there  may  be  cases  of  this 
kind,  we  do  not  deny ;  but  to  take  for  granted  that 
old  age  is  without  its  enjoyment,  is  to  talk  like  a 
mere  sensualist,  or  a  downright  infidel. 


INCAPACITY    FOR   ENJOYMENT.  153 

It  is  true  that,  as  the  physical  powers  decline, 
that  keen  relish  for  sensual  pleasure  felt  in  earlier 
life  is  perceptibly  blunted,  and  those  passions  die 
down  which  constitute  the  stamen  of  enjoyment 
to  so  many.  It  is  these  passions  which  give  bril- 
liancy and  attractiveness  to  the  scenes  where 
fashion  and  frolic  and  animal  excitement  reign. 
They  light  up  the  ball-room,  radiate  around  the 
shrine  of  beauty,  and  reflect  lustre  on  the  gor- 
geous festival.  They  make,  in  fact,  the  heaven 
which  the  worldly  and  the  sensual  desire.  Of 
course,  their  decay  is  deprecated,  and  their 
extinction  dreaded,  by  all  such,  as  carrying  away 
with  it  the  possibility  of  that  enjoyment  which 
constituted  their  supreme,  if  not  their  only 
felicity.  And  it  is  a  premonitory  retribution, 
when  the  old  man  finds  himself  with  desires 
which  his  physical  weakness  forbids  him  to 
gratify, —  a  sort  of  burning  hell  within  him,  like 
"  the  worm  that  never  dies,  and  the  fire  that  is 
never  quenched."  That  such  an  old  age  is  to  be 
deprecated,  we  frankly  admit ;  and  we  say,  more- 
over, that  he  who  dreads  it  on  such  grounds,  and 


154  THE   VOYAGE   OF  LIFE. 

with  such  views,  is  not  prepared  to  die,  whatever 
be  his  period  of  life. 

OLD   AGE   A   SEASON    OF   CALM   FELICITY. 

But  we  take  a  very  different  view  of  old  age 
from  all  this.  We  think  it  possible,  by  previous 
moral  discipline,  by  study  and  by  labor,  to  make 
it  a  season  of  calm  felicity,  in  which  pleasure,  if 
less  exciting,  is  not  less  exquisite ;  and  we  say 
that  even  in  extreme  old  age  we  can  conceive  of 
enjoyments  such  as  far  exceed  the  boasted  pleas- 
ures of  the  world. 

We  have  alluded  to  domestic  pleasures, —  en- 
joyed by  the  old  man  often  as  keenly  as  by  any; 
to  the  respect  which  is  awarded  to  him, —  itself 
no  small  satisfaction ;  to  the  pictured  scenes  of  the 
past, —  for  the  memory  of  the  old  loves  to  indulge 
in  these  reminiscences ;  above  all,  to  religion,  the 
anchor  of  hope  that  grows  strong  when  every- 
thing else  grows  weak ;  —  to  all  these  we  have 
referred  as  sources  of  happiness  in  advanced  life ; 
but  the  catalogue  might  be  greatly  enlarged. 
The  old  man  loses  not  —  certainly  he  need  not 


INCAPACITY    FOR   ENJOYMENT.  155 

lose  —  his  relish  for  intellectual  pursuits  and  for 
•works  of  taste,  nor  his  admiration  for  all  that  is 
beautiful  in  the  varied  works  of  God. 

Old  men  have  been  found  engaged  with  all 
the  ardor  of  youth  in  scientific  pursuits,  seeming 
to  enjoy  their  intellectual  labors  more  even  than 
when  young.  The  octogenarian  has  been  found 
over  his  diagrams,  at  his  experiments,  and  pur- 
suing historical  investigations,  from  the  mere 
love  of  the  employment,  after  all  ambition  had 
died  out  of  the  soul.  The  mind  has  flourished 
and  enjoyed  to  the  very  last. 

FBAXKLIN. 

Referring  to  the  illustrious  Franklin,  Dr. 
Rush  says  of  him,  "  He  exhibited  a  striking 
instance  of  the  influence  of  reading,  writing  and 
conversation,  in  prolonging  a  sound  and  active 
state  of  all  the  faculties  of  his  mind.  In  his 
eighty-fourth  year  he  discovered  no  one  mark, 
in  any  of  them,  of  the  weakness  or  decay  usually 
observed  in  the  minds  of  persons  at  that  advanced 
period  of  life."* 

*  Rush  on  the  Mind. 


156  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

MILTON,    COWPER   AND    BURKE. 

That  immortal  poem.  "  Paradise  Lost,"  was 
written  by  the  old  and  blind  prince  of  epic 
poetry  ;  and  the  "  Task,"  no  less  immortal,  if  less 
great,  was  the  work  of  one  whose  declining  years, 
by  this  effort  of  his  genius,  were  lighted  up  with 
a  mild  departing  ray.  Some  of  the  most  splendid 
works  of  the  greatest  of  British  statesmen, — 
Edmund  Burke, —  those  in  which  the  hues  of 
his  fancy  rise,  like  the  lights  of  the  aurora,  to  an 
almost  mysterious  grandeur,  were  produced  at  an 
age  bordering  on  seventy.  Of  Edmund  Burke 
it  was  said,  by  one  who  was  as  great  in  the  pul- 
pit as  Burke  was  in  the  forum, —  the  late  Robert 
Hall, —  and  in  terms  as  truthful  as  they  are  elo- 
quent.— "His  imperial  fancy  has  laid  all  nature 
under  tribute,  and  has  collected  riches  from 
every  scene  of  the  creation  and  every  work  of 
art." 

Naturalists,  too,  have  lost  none  of  their  ardor, 
by  advancing  age,  in  studying  and  classifying 
the  wonderful  works  of  God.  To  the  very  last 


INCAPACITY    FOB.    ENJOYMENT.  157 


they  have  been  seen,  as  the  high  priests  of 
nature,  offering  their  homage  in  her  temples, 
though  with  trembling  hands,  and  breathing  out 
their  life  amid  the  half-finished  works  which  they 
had  projected. 

These,  I  know,  are  peculiar  cases.  They  are 
neither  numerous  nor  of  common  occurrence  : 
and  it  were  well,  perhaps,  to  take  a  grade  of 
remark  and  reflection  which  may  apply  more 
generally. 

A   TASTE   FOR   READING. 

May  not  a  taste,  then,  for  reading  be  culti- 
vated, and  kept  up  ordinarily  to  old  age  ?  May 
not  the  mind  be  trained  to  this  habit,  so  that, 
when  the  strife  and  toil  of  middle  life  is  over,  the 
old  man  may  have  a  sweet  and  refreshing  source 
of  pleasure  still  open  to  him  7  When  others  are 
too  busy  to  converse  with  him,  and  time  would 
otherwise  hang  heavily,  here  is  a  fund  of  enter- 
tainment and  instruction,  by  which  he  can  hold 
converse  with  the  noblest  intellects,  the  most 
14 


158  THE   VOYAGE   OP  LIFE. 

gifted  geniuses,  the  most  refined  and  acute 
critics. 

History  comes  to  him.  and  proposes,  by  way 
of  recreation  and  amusement,  to  lead  him  back 
over  the  track  of  centuries,  and  to  cause  the 
panorama  of  life  to  pass  before  him,  under  all 
its  former  peculiarities,  and  its  once  exciting 
scenes. 

Poetry,  in  its  ten  thousand  lights  and  shadows, 
its  day-dreams  and  its  night-dreams,  its  gorgeous 
grandeur  and  its  soft,  soothing  melodies,  its 
sarcasm  and  its  satire,  its  sententious  and  its 
swelling  verse,  its  playful  lyrics  and  its  sublime 
epics,  its  enshrinement  of  the  past  and  its  proph- 
ecies respecting  the  future, —  poetry,  that  so 
delighted  his  boyhood,  soothed  and  cheered  his 
midway  course, — comes  now,  in  the  evening  of 
life,  and  steals  into  the  imagination,  to  re-light 
its  darkening  chambers,  to  re-touch  the  pictures 
over  which  time  has  passed  his  dusky  fingers, 
and  to  re-kindle  emotions  which  the  wear 
and  tear  of  this  busy  life  had  well-nigh  ex- 
tinguished. 


INCAPACITY    FOR   ENJOYMENT.  159 

We  have  known  aged  men  who  could  relish 
such  reading  as  keenly  as  in  earlier  life  ;  and 
some  have  we  known  whose  constant  practice  it 
was  to  interweave  among  the  more  solid  works 
which  they  perused  a  portion  of  poetry,  such  as 
Cowper  or  Milton,  Shakspeare  or  Young.  We 
have  even  known  aged  men  try  their  own  hand 
at  verse,  and  produce  such  melody  in  words,  and 
such  chasteness  in  thought,  as  might  have  been 
mistaken  for  the  productions  of  better  known  and 
more  celebrated  bards.  Surely  no  man  who 
retains  a  taste  for  reading  need  fear  the  loneliness 
of  age. 

CONTEMPLATION   OF   NATURE. 

May  not  an  aged  man  also  find  pleasure  in  the 
works  of  nature, —  in  those  beauties  which  every- 
where court  the  eye,  and  convey  through  the 
eye,  and  ear,  and  touch,  and  smell,  impressions 
of  the  divine  goodness?  May  he  not  walk  amid 
these  silent  companions,  and  receive  their  saluta- 
tions, while  his  soul  utters  its  responses  in  his 
awakened  gratitude,  and  his  undefined  yet 


160  THE   VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

pleasurable  emotions  ?  Is  the  flower  not  beautiful 
to  the  eye  which  is  somewhat  dim  with  years,  or 
the  song  of  bird  not  sweet  because  it  falls  on  a 
somewhat  less  sensitive  ear?  Cannot  the  old 
man  look  on  the  sun  and  moon  and  stars,  and 
say,  ' '  These  are  thy  glorious  works  "  ?  Is  he 
shut  out  from  nature's  harmonies,  or  doomed 
to  dwell  alone,  when  so  many  consolatory 
voices  from  earth,  air  and  sky,  are  addressing 
him? 

How  wrong,  then,  to  assert  that  old  age  has 
not  its  blessings,  its  felicities  !  To  assert  that  it 
is  a  period  replete  only  with  evils, —  an  intoler- 
able waste,  where  burdens  only  are  to  be 
borne,  and  sighs  only  to  be  breathed, —  where 
there  is  neither  light,  nor  solace,  nor  hope, —  a 
portion  of  human  life  simply  to  be  dreaded, — 
worse,  in  the  estimation  of  some,  even  than 
death  itself !  This  is  a  wrong  view,  an  atheistic 
view. 

True  it  is,  as  we  have  already  intimated,  that, 
not  revering  the  Creator  in  earlier  days,  casting 
away  the  opportunity  for  salvation  in  youth  or 


INCAPACITY   FOR   ENJOYMENT.  161 

middle  life,  the  last  days  must  come  to  us  under 
circumstances  in  which  we  shall  say  "we  have 
no  pleasure  in  them."  But  does  this  apply  to 
the  good  man.  —  to  him  who  has  made  preparation 
for  old  age.  who  has  cultivated  his  mind  and 
heart,  and  taken  the  staff  which  God  has  given 
him  to  lean  upon  ?  No,  indeed.  His  last  are 
often  his  best  and  brightest  days.  "An  old 
disciple  "  is  like  a  richly-freighted  ship,  coming 
from  the  land  of  spices  and  aromatics,  whose  long 
and  perilous  voyage  may  have  given  to  her  a 
somewhat  battered  and  rusty  aspect,  but  within 
lies  the  precious  cargo.  As  she  approaches  the 
destined  haven,  who  inquires  about  her  external 
beauty, —  whether  her  streamers  be  gay,  her  sides 
bright,  or  her  sails  without  a  rent  ?  It  is  for 
something  far  more  valuable  that  she  is  welcomed 
to  port ;  and  it  is  a  proud  day  when  this  old  and 
weather-beaten  bark,  after  battling  successfully 
the  storms  of  the  ocean,  is  moored  safely  in  the 
harbor  to  which  she  was  destined. 

Is  it  not  somewhat  so  with  the  aged  Christian  ? 
Is  he  not  stored  with  fruits  from  the  better  land, 
14* 


162  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

and  is  he  not  bound  for  a  harbor  where  storms 
and  tempests  never  come  ?  His  outward  man, 
by  the  lapse  of  years,  may  lose  somew-hat  of  its 
beauty,  if  by  that  word  is  meant  the  bright 
coloring  of  youth.  He  may  not  have  the  vigor 
and  bearing  of  early  manhood ;  but  he  has,  under 
all  that  apparent  dismantling  of  the  outward 
man,  a  glorious  accumulation  of  hopes  and  joys, 
of  faith  and  love, —  fruits  of  the  spirit  imported 
into  the  soul  through  years  of  experience  and 
self-denial ;  and,  as  he  nears  the  end,  how,  as 
in  the  picture  before  us,  do  the  bending  angels, 
eager  to  welcome  so  precious  an  arrival,  come 
forth  to  pilot  him  into  the  peaceful  haven  of 
eternal  rest ! 

A  more  sublime  sight  than  an  aged  Christian, 
with  the  radiance  of  heaven  upon  his  brow,  and 
the  world  beneath  his  feet, — every  earthly  ligature 
loosened,  having  fought  the  good  fight  and  kept 
the  faith,  and  now  only  waiting  in  patience  the 
coming  of  his  Lord, —  a  more  sublime  moral  spec- 
tacle is  not  to  be  found  in  the  whole  presentation 
of  this  world's  sublimities. 


INCAPACITY    FOR   ENJOYMENT.  163 


THE    LAST    MESSENGER. 


Death  is  the  appointed  messenger  to  call  the 
aged  pilgrim  to  his  rest.  '  •  Go  up  to  the  mount 
and  die  there,"  was  the  word  of  God  to  Moses. 
Jacob  leans  upon  the  top  of  his  staff,  and  gives 
his  dying  counsels  to  his  sons.  Simeon  takes  in 
his  arms  the  long-expected  consolation  of  Israel, 
and  says,  "  Now,  Lord,  lettest  thou  thy  servant 
depart  in  peace."  Sublime,  indeed,  is  the  spec- 
tacle of  an  aged  disciple  giving  up  the  ghost. 
Death  has  but  a  feeble  claim  on  such.  It 
scarcely  requires  the  action  of  death  to  break  up 
the  cell,  and  to  give  the  long-imprisoned  spirit  its 
liberty. 

THE    OLD    MAN'S    BEST   COMPANION. 

This,  we  hesitate  not  to  say,  is  the  Bible.  It 
is  the  only  staff  strong  enough  for  him  to  lean 
upon.  Sir  Walter  Scott,  when  old  and  infirm, 
suffering  under  a  paralysis,  and  expecting,  ere 
long,  to  give  up  his  account,  said,  one  day,  to  his 
son-in-law,  then  in  attendance,  "  Hand  me  that 


164  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

book  !  "  Not  understanding  him  at  first,  Lock- 
hart  said,  "  What  book  1 "  "  There  is  but  one 
book,"  replied  this  patriarch  of  literature.  What 
a  testimony  to  the  value  of  the  Scriptures  to  an 
old  man  hastening  to  the  grave  ! 

We  have  seen  aged  Christians  contracting 
gradually  their  circle  of  reading,  laying  aside 
first  one  volume  and  then  another  which  had 
been  wont  to  occupy  their  attention,  and  concen- 
trating their  interest  more  and  more  upon  the 
Bible.  The  daily  study  of  this  blessed  book 
brought  to  them  a  soul -satisfy  ing  pleasure. 
As  their  days  Avere  fast  numbering,  and  their 
sun  sinking  towards  the  horizon,  they  regarded 
every  other  book  with  a  sort  of  jealous  eye, 
as  serving  to  supplant  this  best  of  books  ; 
or,  with  a  growing  indifference  to  scenes  and  sub- 
jects which  constitute  the  material  of  earth's 
literature,  and  taking  a  deeper  hold  on  the  world 
to  come,  now  so  near,  they  found  in  the  Bible 
those  great  and  precious  promises,  that  clear  and 
well-defined  road  to  heaven,  that  food  so  appro- 
priate to  the  soul,  and  that  firm  support  under 


INCAPACITY   FOR    ENJOYMENT.  165 


all   its    trials,    which,    in    their    circumstances, 
rendered  it.  as  Scott  remarked.  "  the  owfybook." 

BIBLE    ADAPTED    TO    THE   AGED. 

The  Scriptures  are  remarkable  —  among  the 
many  remarkable  things  which  characterize  them 
—  for  their  adaptation  to  all  classes  of  men,  to 
men  of  all  ages  and  conditions  of  life. 

The  child  is  here  addressed  in  language  which 
he  can  comprehend.  Youth  is  warned  of  the 
vices  and  errors  to  which  lie  is  exposed,  and 
earnestly  counselled  to  choose  the  path  of  wisdom 
and  piety.  Manhood  is  addressed  amid  the  toils 
and  temptations  of  the  world,  and  by  a  thousand 
arguments  is  urged  to.  serve  God  rather  than 
mammon.  Nor  is  old  age  forgotten  in  the  admo- 
nitions and  the  consolations  of  the  Bible ;  but  to 
living  pictures  of  venerable  piety  and  preeminent 
faith  are  added  innumerable  counsels  calculated 
to  throw  a  calm  sunshine  over  the  dying  embers 
of  existence. 

The  patriarchs  of  the  Old  Testament,  living  on, 
as  they  did,  until  the  weight  of  years  bent  down 


166  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

the  body,  and  a  life-long  experience  made  wise 
the  soul,  stand  out  on  the  sacred  page  as  striking 
examples  of  a  sanctified  old  age.  Their  life,  so 
holy,  was  a  beautiful  preparation  to  their  death, 
so  calm,  so  sublime. 

ABRAHAM   AND    OTHER   PATRIARCHS. 

In  Abraham,  the  migratory  prince,  the  called 
of  God,  the  God-befriended  man, —  with  his  faith, 
his  self-denial,  his  courage,  his  noble  independ- 
ence, his  death,  so  concisely  told,  yet  evidently 
BO  triumphant, — in  this  holy  old  man  we  see  what 
a  mellow  and  attractive  lustre  may  linger  around 
the  last  days  of  a  virtuous  humanity. 

Look  also  at  Moses,  the  ex-prince  of  Egypt, 
robed  in  spirit  with  garments  more  lustrous  than 
ever  enfolded  the  limbs  of  the  Pharaohs, — ahigh- 
souled  man,  with  the  learning  of  Egypt  stored 
away  in  his  capacious  brain, —  as  ready,  when 
Providence  so  ordered,  to  tend  a  flock  in  Horeb, 
as  he  was  to  wear  the  diadem  in  courtly  halls ; 
yea,  even  more  so,  for  "  he  esteemed  the  reproach 
of  Christ  greater  riches  than  the  treasures  of 


INCAPACITY   FOR   EXJOYMENT.  1G7 

Egypt;"  willing  for  forty  long  years  to  remain 
in  obscurity,  and  yet  equally  ready,  at  God's 
command  and  for  God's  glory,  to  become  after- 
wards conspicuous; — look  at  this  man,  growing 
old  amid  scenes  the  most  wonderful  and  the  most 
trying,  in  which  we  know  not  whether  more  to 
admire  the  interpositions  of  God,  or  the  almost 
superhuman  wisdom  and  meekness  of  his  servant ; 
see  him,  too,  resigning  without  a  murmur  all  the 
expectations  of  an  earthly  rest,  bowing  his  aged 
head  to  the  verdict  that  makes  his  tomb  to  open 
at  the  very  moment  that  his  triumph  was  com- 
plete, that  gives  him  only  a  distant  glimpse  of 
the  long-hoped-for  land,  and  then  assigns  him  a 
resting-place  amid  the  undiscovered  clefts  of 
Mount  Nebo ;  see  this  venerable  man,  under  all 
these  circumstances,  acting  the  saint  as  he  had 
acted  the  sage,  and  leaving  an  example  of  meek- 
ness and  of  faith  which  throws  over  his  end  a 
lustre  as  bright  as  that  which  was  shed  over  his 
earlier  career ! 

Samuel,  the  judge ;  David,  the  prince,  the  war- 
rior, and  the  poet;  Daniel,  the  inflexible,   the 


168  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

wise,  the  holy, —  men  who  lived  amid  stirring 
events,  growing  old  in  honor  and  virtue,  and 
whose  old  age  is  instructive  in  proportion  as 
their  earlier  history  was  eventful, —  who  lived  the 
life  of  the  righteous,  and  died  their  death, —  such 
men  are  set  before  us,  as  the  lights  of  a  patri- 
archal age,  to  be  studied,  admired  and  imitated,  by 
all  Avho  read  the  word  of  God. 

With  such  moral  portraits  hung  around  the 
vestibule,  and  impanelled  in  the  walls  of  that 
great  temple  of  truth,  how  comforting  to  the 
aged  to  be  permitted  to  enter  and  to  gaze  upon 
them  !  How  much  more  satisfactory  than  to 
study  the  history  of  the  proudest  heroes  and 
sages  of  Greece  or  Rome  ! 


BIBLE   PROMISES. 


Then,  again,  the  Bible  is  full  of  promises  that 
respect  a  state  of  dependence.  It  supplies  a 
staff  on  which  the  weary  may  lean.  Some  of 
these  promises  have  special  reference  to  old  age  ; 
and  all  of  them  are  full  of  consolation,  such  as 
that  period  of  weakness  and  decline  renders  both 


INCAPACITY    Foil    ENJOYMENT.  169 

applicable  and  precious.  ':I  will  never  leave 
thee  nor  forsake  thee."  "  They  shall  still  bring 
forth  fruit  in  old  age."  "  And  even  to  your  old 
age  I  am  He."  "  Now,  when  I  am  old  and  gray- 
headed,  0  God,  forsake  me  not !  "  u  Thou 
shalt  come  to  thy  grave  in  a  full  age,  like  as  a 
shock  of  corn  cometh  in,  in  his  season."  But 
more  comforting  still  are  those  passages  which 
speak  of  the  future,  opening  upon  the  aged  eye 
visions  of  a  bliss  in  which  there  is  no  alloy ;  of 
a  state  where  there  is  no  decay  or  dissolution, 
where  nothing  grows  old,  where  no  bright  hue 
ever  fades,  no  sigh  is  ever  heaved,  where  the 
inhabitants  never  say  "I  am  sick,"  and  where 
God  wipeth  away  all  tears  with  his  own  hand ! 

A  book  that  brings  such  things  to  view, 
coming  into  the  hand  when  it  is  too  feeble  to 
grasp  any  earthly  support;  that  discloses  the 
light  of  heaven  when  to  the  eye  all  earthly 
grandeur  is  fading ;  that  spreads  heaven's  sun- 
shine around  the  path  when  a  portentous  dark- 
ness is  stealing  over  it,  and  suspends  over  the 
very  portals  of  the  grave  the  bright  garland  of 
15 


170  THE    VOYAGE    OF    LIFE. 

immortality, —  such  a  book  cannot  fail  to  interest 
the  aged  pilgrim,  as  he  totters  on  towards  the  last 
sad  scene  that  awaits  all  the  children  of  mortality. 
"Who  can  doubt  that  the  Bible  is  the  best  com- 
panion of  the  old  man]  or  who,  that  has  studied  it 
with  eyes  enlightened  from  above,  can  dread  the 
hour  when  its  revealed  glories  —  now  the 
objects  of  faith  —  shall,  by  death,  become  glori- 
ous realities,  and  be  in  actual  possession,  and  that 
forever ! 


THE   CLOSE. 


We  are  drawing  to  a  close.  The  stream  of 
thought  is  tending  to  that  great  estuary  which 
opens  into  the  wide,  wide  ocean,  the  eternity 
which  engulfs  all  living  things. 

The  voyage,  beginning  in  the  fiowery  grotto 
of  childhood,  has  reached,  at  length,  the  cold,  dark 
scenery  of  old  age.  Seems  it  to  be  long  ?  Ask 
the  patriarch  of  eighty.  "Few  and  evil,"  will 
he  say,  "  have  been  the  days  of  the  years  of  my 
pilgrimage."  In  the  retrospect,  this  voyage  is  but 
as  a  night-vision.  Yet  how  many  incidents  are 


INCAPACITY    FOR   ENJOYMENT.  171 

crowded  into  it !  How  many  influences  combine 
to  make  it  one  of  moral  peril  !  0.  how  much 
are  we  indebted  to  that  chart  which  gives  us  the 
way-marks,  which  points  out  the  rocks  and 
dangers,  which  casts  a  beacon  glare  over  the  whirl- 
pool, and  reveals  to  the  eye  of  faith,  in  the  dim 
distance,  the  haven  of  eternal  rest ! 

Child  of  mortality,  embarked  on  this  eventful 
voyage,  study  this  heaven-inscribed  chart ! 
With  this  in  hand,  and  the  guardian  angel  in 
attendance,  thou  mayest  steer  thy  course  in 
safety. 

Man  of  the  world,  borne  on  in  the  world's 
rapid  current,  thou  needest  to  consult  this  divine 
oraCle,  lest  thou  shouldst  be  swallowed  in  the 
vortex  that  opens  before  thee  ;  and  when  thy  sor- 
rows and  fears  are  upon  thee,  and  the  night  sets 
in  dark  and  dreary,  so  that  thou  knowest  not 
what  to  do,  then  will  this  book  of  books  give 
thee  "  an  anchor  sure  and  steadfast,"  and  set  on 
the  brow  of  the  gloomiest  tempest  the  day-star 
of  hope ! 

Aged   pilgrim,    bowed  under   the  weight  of 


172  THE    VOYAGE    OF   LIFE. 

years,  and  nearing  the  outlet  of  existence, —  that 
dark  and  dreaded  passage-way  to  eternity,  where 
go  many  have  been  wrecked,  and  which  so  few 
have  passed  in  triumph, —  keep  thy  eye  steadfast 
on  that  bright  opening  in  the  lurid  sky,  where 
are  seen  those  angel  forms,  and  whence  are  heard 
those  angel  voices,  saying,  "  Come  up  hither  !  " 
Above  all,  "look  unto  Jesus,  the  author  and 
finisher  of  faith,"  who  himself  has  passed 
those  fearful  straits,  and  who,  to  encourage  thee, 
—  now  about  to  make  the  same  dark  passage, — 
says,  "  Fear  not,  for  I  will  be  with  thee ;"  and, 
as  thy  dim  eye,  growing  still  more  hazy  amid 
the  cold  mists  of  the  Jordan,  fixes  its  gaze  on 
Him,  thou  shalt  see  "  the  chariots  of  God,  with 
their  thousands  of  angels,"  and  the  Lord  Jesus 
in  the  midst  of  them,  ready  to  welcome  thee  to 
the  everlasting  and  glorious  rest !  This  is  that 
"  eternal  life,"  the  recompense  of  those  who,  by 
faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  "  seek  for  glory,  honor  and 
immortality." 


APPENDIX. 


THE   OUTFIT. 

WHEN  a  long  or  important  voyage  is  about 
to  be  undertaken,  the  inquiry  naturally  is,  what 
is  the  requisite  outfit?  Some  things  are  indis- 
pensable, and  some  are  merely  convenient. 
Who  would  think  of  embarking  on  the  trackless 
ocean,  without  a  chart  to  mark  out  the  way,  and 
a  compass  to  guide  the  vessel  ?  Anchors  and 
cables  must  also  be  provided,  as  a  security  against 
shipwreck,  in  case  of  peril  from  storms,  on  a 
dangerous  coast.  The  ship  must  be  well  manned 
and  amply  provisioned.  All  these  things  are 
carefully  attended  to  by  those  accustomed  to  do 
business  on  the  great  waters.  Experience 
teaches  them  what  is  needed ;  and  a  regard  to 
their  personal  safety,  and  the  success  of  the 
voyage,  induces  them  to  see  that  all  needful 
things  are  provided. 
15* 


174  APPENDIX. 


And  should  not  those  who  undertake  the 
eventful  and  perilous  voyage  of  life  inquire  as 
to  what  is  needful ;  in  order,  so  far  as  human 
foresight  can  go,  to  insure  security  and  success  1 
The  question  applies  especially  to  the  young, 
who  are  in  the  condition  somewhat  of  those  who 
are  making  preparation  for  a  voyage.  The 
young  are  getting  ready  for  the  active  and  re- 
sponsible duties  of  life.  They  are  laying  in 
stores  for  the  voyage.  They  may  scarcely  be 
said,  as  yet,  to  have  spread  their  sails  on  the 
wide  ocean.  What,  then,  is  needful  for  them,  ere 
they  shall  set  forth  to  encounter  the  vicissitudes 
of  life's  troubled  deep  ? 

They  must,  in  the  first  place,  provide  them- 
selves with  a  chart.  Is  there  such  a  thing  to  be 
had  1  —  one  that  is  reliable,  —  that  indicates-the 
true  path,  and  lays  down  all  the  rocks  and  quick- 
sands ?  The  great  point  with  the  navigator  is  that 
his  chart  be  accurate,  —  so  perfectly  accurate 
that  he  can  place  the  utmost  confidence  in  its  in- 
dications. He  accordingly  compares  it  with  other 
charts,  purporting  to  mark  out  the  same  course. 


THE    OUTFIT.  175 


He  inquires,  also,  of  those  who  have  sailed  by  it, 
if  they  have  found  it  reliable.  All  these  precau- 
tions being  taken,  if  the  chart  be  well  authenti- 
cated, he  fearlessly  trusts  himself  to  its  guidance. 
Xow.  there  is  but  one  safe  and  reliable  chart 
for  the  young  voyager,  —  a  map  of  life's  ocean, 
that  never  deceives ;  that  points  out  the  track  to 
be  pursued,  and  reveals  all  the  hidden  dangers  to 
which  he  may  be  exposed.  That  chart  is  the 
Bible!  In  the  previous  pages  allusion  has 
frequently  been  made  to  it,  and  its  precepts  have 
been  the  guiding  principles  in  all  the  activities 
and  duties  of  life,  as  set  forth  in  this  little  vol- 
ume. It  traces  in  unerring  lines  the  whole 
pathway  of  existence,  and  unfolds  the  bright  and 
glorious  haven  to  which  the  successful  voyager 
at  length  arrives.  Many,  nay,  millions,  have 
sailed  by  this  sure  guide,  and  have  found  that  it 
never  deceives.  Their  testimony  is,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  inspired  song,  "Through  thy  precepts 
I  get  understanding."  "  The  law  of  the  Lord 
is  perfect."  "By  it  is  thy  servant  warned,  and 
in  keeping  of  it  there  is  great  reward."  "  Thou 


176  APPENDIX. 


wilt  guide  me  with  thy  counsel,  and  afterward 
receive  me  to  glory."  This  chart  teaches  the 
young  what  they  may  expect,  and  what  they 
must  do.  "  Wherewithal  shall  a  young  man 
cleanse  his  way?  By  taking  heed  thereto 
according  to  thy  word."  There  is  no  treacher- 
ous current  that  it  does  not  indicate ;  and  no 
adverse  wind  that  blows,  but  it  signalizes.  It 
was  written  by  one  who  sees  the  end  from  the 
beginning;  who  traces  the  human  heart  per- 
fectly ;  and  whose  omniscience  enables  him  to 
portray,  with  minute  accuracy,  its  deceitfulness, 
and  the  temptations  and  dangers  to  which  it  is 
exposed. 

Take  this  chart,  then,  as  an  indispensable 
guide  ;  unroll  it  every  day,  and  mark,  with  eye 
intent,  its  every  indication.  Whatever  perplex- 
ity may  attend  thy  course,  however  dark  the 
atmosphere  may  grow,  attend  to  this  sure  guide, 
and  steer  by  its  marks  and  lines,  and  you  will 
neither  falter  nor  founder  in  your  course. 

There  must  also  be  provided  a  compass,  whose 
needle  shall  always  indicate  the  true  position  of 


THE    OUTFIT.  177 


the  vessel.  That  needle  points  unerringly .  to 
one  part  of  the  heavens.  The  mariner  is  never 
deceived  by  it.  Darkness  and  storm  may  sur- 
round him  ;  but,  with  his  eye  on  the  compass,  he 
knows  the  direction,  and  understands  how  to 
manage  his  helm.  What  a  provision  is  this ! 
How  wonderful  the  Providence  that  has  dis- 
covered it !  What  vast  interests  are  intrusted  to 
that  little,  trembling  needle,  which  holds  commu- 
nion with  some  mysterious  power  of  nature  at  the 
north !  What  could  a  vessel  do  in  mid  ocean 
without  some  such  guide? 

But  is  there  no  moral  compass  in  life's  event- 
ful voyage  1  If  the  Bible  is  a  chart,  may  we 
not  say  that  the  religion  of  the  Bible  —  true 
Christian  principle  —  is  the  needle  that  points 
unerringly  to  the  heavens?  The  soul  that  is 
renewed  is  like  the  steel  that  is  magnetized ;  it 
turns  instinctively  to  God  and  to  heaven.  The 
love  of  God  is  the  loadstone  that  draws  in  one 
direction.  It  never  greatly  deviates.  Like  the 
needle,  it  may  have  its  perturbations,  —  may  be 
disturbed,  and  for  a  moment  made  to  vibrate,  — 


178  APPENDIX. 

but  soon  settles  in  the  same  direction.  Launched 
on  the  ocean  of  existence,  where  so  much  is  at 
stake,  and  so  many  perils  await  us,  how  much 
the  young  voyager  needs  this  compass,  this  soul- 
magnet,  drawing  him  in  the  direction  of  heaven, 
and  showing  to  his  oft  bewildered  mind  the  star 
of  Bethlehem,  shining  on  the  brow  of  the  moral 
firmament ! 

The  spiritual  outfit  includes  what  the  apostle 
calls  the  "  anchor  of  the  soul."  "  Which  hope 
we  have  as  an  anchor  of  the  soul,  sure  and 
steadfast."  Hope  is  generally  represented  under 
this  symbol.  Hence  the  phrase  "anchor  of 
hope."  But  the  mere  earthly  hope,  that  which 
looks  only  to  what  may  be  enjoyed  in  this  world, 
offers  but  a  frail  support  amid  the  storms  of  life. 
We  need  an  anchor  strong  enough  to  hold  us 
safe,  amid  the  heaviest  billows  and  the  fiercest 
winds.  We  need  one  that  shall  hold  us  safe, 
even  when  the  waves  of  Jordan  rise  dark  and 
dreadful  around  us.  None  but  "that  which 
entereth  within  the  vail,"  which  fixes  itself  on 
the  eternal  throne,  —  nothing,  in  short,  but  a 


THE    OUTFIT.  179 


true    Christian  hope,  —  can  prove  an  adequate 
support  and  stay. 

The  young  are  apt  to  think  they  can  get  on 
without  much  extraneous  aid,  —  that,  depending 
on  their  conscious  energies  and  activities,  they 
can  cope  with  the  difficulties  and  trials  that  are 
before  them.  This  is  owing,  in  part,  to  their 
inexperience.  But,  ere  they  have  proceeded  far 
on  their  voyage,  they  find  themselves  encom- 
passed with  dangers  and  perplexities,  and  are  fain 
to  seek  for  some  friend  to  interpose  and  help 
them.  Some  sink  under  their  early  discourage- 
ments, and  never  rise  to  the  dignity  of  conquered 
evils.  They  founder  ere  the  voyage  is  half  over. 
How  many  shipwrecked  youthful  hopes  are  seen 
on  the  shores  of  life  !  It  makes  one's  heart  bleed 
to  witness  the  premature  ruin  that  is  going  on  in 
our  population,  among  young  men  and  women, 
—  but  especially  among  young  men,  who  might 
have  lived  to  adorn  their  country's  annals,  and 
shed  over  society  a  healthful  influence  ;  but  who, 
through  pride,  and  vanity,  and  sensuality,  and 
self-confidence,  have  gone  down  to  an  early 
grave  and  to  a  disgraceful  end  ! 


180  APPENDIX. 


What  they  needed  was  religion.  They  fol- 
lowed their  own  impulses,  their  own  evil  pas- 
sions, instead  of  that  unerring  guide  which 
God  has  given,  and  by  taking  heed  to  which  a 
young  man  may  cleanse  his  way.  They  went  to 
sea  without  a  chart.  They  flung  themselves  out 
on  the  deep  with  nothing  to  guide  them.  They 
suffered  themselves  to  float  wherever  the  waves 
of  selfish  passion  set.  They  had  no  compass,  — 
no  religious  principle  to  fall  hack  upon  when 
temptation,  beset,  or  when  error  was  presented. 
What  wonder,  then,  that  they  made  shipwreck  of 
their  early  manhood  ? 

Sad  picture  !  and  too  often  not  a  picture,  but 
a  reality.  0,  youthful  voyager,  bound  for 
eternity  !  so  soon  to  lie  stranded  on  the  shores 
of  time,  so  soon  to  end  thy  course,  —  why  wilt 

-* 

thou  not  provide  against  the  evils  which  threaten, 
and  secure  the  good  that  is  attainable  ?  Secure 
the  necessary  outfit,  —  the  chart,  the  compass, 
the  help  divine.  Make  God  your  portion,  and 
heaven  your  aim.  Steer  by  the  Star  of  Beth- 
lehem, and  the  voyage,  even  if  tempestuous,  will 
terminate  in  peace ! 


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